


Ghosts of Lovers Past

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Episode Related, M/M, Romance, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-10
Updated: 1999-04-10
Packaged: 2018-11-10 14:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived atDue South Archive. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDue South Archive collection profile.





	Ghosts of Lovers Past

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Ghosts of Lovers Past

 

This is story number one of what will eventually be a four or five part  
series, entitled "Alchemy." Alchemy, which originated in the  
Middle Ages, was the art of transmuting baser metals into gold, and of  
finding an elixir of life. This was an arduous, mysterious process shrouded  
in secrets. It required great sacrifices from its practitioners, but  
promised immense rewards to those who did not give up. Rather like the  
process of finding love in the real world�.  
  
This story is M/M Fraser/Kowalski slash, and rated NC-17.  
  
Third season spoilers for "Bounty Hunter"  


  


Note: In this story, some time after the events in "Burning  
Down the House", Fraser finds a new apartment instead of living  
at the Canadian consulate.  


  
Ghosts of Lovers Past  
  
© Caroline Alert  
  
  
-Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end-  
SemiSonic  


End of another day. Not a second too soon for me. After the 'blue flu'  
epidemic and that damn bounty hunter chick and her psycho kids, I'm  
ready to shake the dust of the 27th District off my boots for awhile.  
Besides, I'm hungry. Got visions of pizza dancing in my head. I put  
my files away and head for the door, thinking about dinner.

On my way out, I see Fraser standing in the hallway. The two thoughts  
come together in my head: dinner and the Mountie. *Yeah. I'll take  
him with me. Eatin's a lot more fun with him. Hell, everything is.  
Dunno why. Just know it's true. He drives me crazy sometimes, but there's  
no denying, my life's been a helluva lot more interesting since I partnered  
up with him. Lot better in most ways, come to think of it. He's a good  
friend. Could do without him lickin' everything in sight, though _._ * _  
_  
"Come on, Fraser," I tell him as I go by. "Let's go get  
somethin' to eat."

But Fraser doesn't say anything. Fraser the perfect, Fraser the polite,  
who wouldn't be caught dead being less than a perfect gentleman, doesn't  
even answer me. Don't have to be a detective to know something's wrong.  
So I stop a few feet away from him, take a closer look. He's got a weird  
expression on his face. *Is he embarrassed about somethin'?* Then I  
remember that I took all his money working the bounty hunter chick's  
case. *He probly doesn't wanna admit that he's broke.*

"Listen, I know you're a little short o' cash right now, but I'm  
flush, so I'll buy." Glad to do it. Fraser's helped me a lot,  
and he never asks for anything back. Beer and pizza's a small price  
to pay for a friend like that.

But he still doesn't say anything. Just stands there in the middle of  
the hall staring off blindly into space. Like he's been hit by a truck  
or something. Or like he's watching the best thing he ever had walk  
away�.

Then it hits me. It twigs in my head: *The Torrance case is closed.  
So the bounty hunter chick must be gone. She must've just left. And  
Fraser had a thing for her, I could see that. Hell, a blind man could  
see that. That's why he's upset.*

I stare at him, a little embarrassed that I've been so slow on the uptake.  
That I didn't get it at first. It crosses my mind that maybe I didn't  
want to get it, didn't want to admit that he felt that way about her.  
But I push that thought away because it feels weird. Almost like I'm  
jealous or something.

I'm not! I just didn't like her.

*I have my reasons. Lots of 'em. I mean, I told her about the 'blue  
flu' and all, but she just didn't get it. Kept wantin' me to cross the  
line and help her. Like she was Mother Theresa or somethin'! Not to  
mention the bitchy way she thanked me for my 'professional courtesy',  
right in front of Fraser. Then there was that cute little bit where  
she shone that flashlight in my face�. She was a real beaut. I  
wanted to pop her. No wonder her husband left her! I couldn't stand  
her either�and the feeling was mutual.* _  
  
_*But Fraser liked her. He liked her a lot. I could tell. And now  
she's gone. Guess life sucks sometimes, even for perfect Mounties.*  
I stare at him, not knowing what to say to make things better.

Finally, he realizes I'm there. He blinks. Swallows hard. Presses  
his hand to his eye real fast, trying to make the gesture look casual,  
instead of what I think it is. Then he turns and comes towards me.  
He doesn't say a word, just walks past me down the hall. But he doesn't  
have to. He's keeping his face blank, but I can see my guess was right  
about that little move. He was wiping his eyes because he's been crying.

Not sobbing or anything�he's a Mountie after all. Fraser's not  
the type to ever lose it like that. Not in public, anyway. But his  
eyes are wet, so I know if he was somewhere where no one could see him,  
he might. I fall into step beside him, stunned. _*_ Never seen him  
cry before. Never thought I would. Fraser's the strong one, he's always  
cool, calm and in control. Like Superman or somethin'. Seein' him cry  
is weird, like feeling the earth suddenly shifting under my feet. Somethin'  
that just shouldn't happen.

But I know why it did.

Goddamn bounty hunter! I hate her. Good thing she didn't stick around.  
If she had, I probly woulda popped her. Cuz the Mountie wouldn't hurt  
a fly�and I hate people who mess with him.*

But it occurs to me while we walk that I couldn't stand Torrance from  
the get go. Way before she left Fraser, or hurt him. Almost from the  
second we first met. *Wonder why�. I think what really got me  
was the way she made Fraser look at me. When I wouldn't I.D. that plate  
for her, he glared at me like I was pond scum. The lowest of the low.  
Only time he ever looked at me like that before was when I hit him.  
But gettin' that look cuz o' some woman he liked�that really sucked.* _  
  
_*So maybe it wasn't her I couldn't stand. Maybe it was the way she  
started to come between us. Maybe I was jealous�*  
 _  
_*Nawww, that's nuts!*I tell myself _._ I roll my shoulders,  
because just thinking about that bounty hunter's tying me into knots.  
*So stop it! This is about Fraser anyway, not about you _._ * _  
_Still, I feel a big rush of secret relief that Torrance is gone.  
Makes me feel a bit guilty, because I know Frase is really hurting.

"It'll be okay," I tell him, trying to make up for it. Knowing  
I probably can't.

Fraser doesn't say anything, but he tries to smile. The fact that he  
can't manage much of one makes my heart sink. *He isn't gonna shake  
this one off real easy. I can see that already _._ * So I decide  
to take a risk. The Mountie isn't a huggy type guy, he's way too reserved.  
But right now I don't give a damn about that. He's hurting bad, and  
I just want to take it away. So as we walk, I put my hand on his shoulder.  
Squeeze it, because the words just weren't enough.

His head comes up, and he lets down his guard for once. Gives me this  
look�. It's got tears shining in it, and it's dark, so dark and  
lonely it hits me in the gut. Rocks me. Because I know it isn't just  
about the bounty hunter. This is Fraser, who he really is behind the  
perfect Mountie mask he always wears: he's lonely. And he's been that  
way for a long time, because that look is miles deep. There's years  
of pain in it. Pain I know he's never told anybody about. Janet Torrance  
is just the last, and probably not the worst of it.

*But now I really do hate her, for bein' a part of it.

Thing is, I hate all those other people too. Everyone involved in that  
look. The ones he's not talkin' about, the ones he never talks about.  
The ones I suddenly feel a bit ashamed for never askin' him about. It's  
just that he never pays much attention to women, and he always looks  
so perfect, so�untouched, that I never thought about his past.  
I mean, I looked at his file and Vecchio's, so I know a bit about that  
crazy Metcalf chick. But other than her, I never even thought he had  
much of a history.

Until tonight. Until that look. Dunno why he finally let me see inside  
him, why he picked tonight to finally trust me that much�but I know  
I can't forget what I saw. Gotta toss out my dumbass assumption that  
Fraser's never been around much. Good lookin' guy like him, he's gotta  
have a past! Maybe more of one than I do. And tonight, it's got him  
by the throat. I know what that's like. Spent enough nights alone in  
my apartment dancing with memories of Stella to know exactly what it's  
like. But who the hell did this to him? Whose ghosts is he waltzin'  
with tonight?*

"You wanna talk about it, Frase?" I ask. But I already know  
the answer.

"No, Ray," he says.

Big surprise. He always does this, shuts up tight as a Canadian clam  
when he's upset. Still, I keep my hand on his shoulder as we walk.  
Don't let him go like I usually would. Because I don't want him to feel  
any more alone than he already does. "Come on then," I tell  
him. "I'll take you out. We'll get a pizza, some beers, play some  
pool. Have a few laughs."

*And I'll try to make you forget about Torrance. And whoever else is  
behind that look. For awhile, anyway.*  
 _  
_He blinks a little, trying to hold back the tears that still shine  
in his eyes. "Thanks," is all he says.

But he lets me hold onto his shoulder all the way to the car.

**********************************************************************************

Fraser is keenly aware, even in his utter misery, of Ray's presence.  
Of the unusual concern in his partner's blue eyes, the protectiveness  
in the lean body that hovers close to him as they walk, and the unspoken  
message in the slender hand that lingers on his shoulder. Despite its  
apparent delicacy, Fraser knows it's a lethal hand. A hand that's calloused  
from years of holding a gun, a hand that balls all too easily into a  
fist when Ray's temper is aroused�yet now, just now, that hand sits  
gentle on his shoulder.

Ray has sensed his distress, is trying to make him feel better. But  
somehow, his kindness makes him feel worse. He can't bear kindness now,  
he wants�he doesn't even know what he wants. To be free of pain,  
perhaps, if only for a moment. Yes. For an insane moment, he wishes  
Ray would hit him. Hard, as he did that day by the lake. No, even harder�hard  
enough to knock him out. He'd give anything to be dead to the world  
right now. Dead to all the pain inside him. Pain that's so much worse  
tonight, in the wake of his latest misguided attempt at romance.

*You can trust me.* He'd said that to Janet, and he'd meant it. Sensing  
something of himself in her, he'd put aside his usual caution where women  
were concerned, and tried to reach out to her. It hadn't been easy--for  
him, it never was. But it had seemed important to try, because what  
he really wanted was so impossible; and he was growing tired of impossible  
dreams. Weary of his own loneliness. So he'd reached for Janet, who  
was properly female and seemingly available. Just the sort of person  
he was supposed to want. He'd taken care of her children, helped her  
with her case, told her of his cabin up north�. He'd even kissed  
her, and told her she could trust him.

But now the words echo in his head. Hollow, mocking him. *You can trust  
me�*  
 _  
_What did that matter? It wasn't enough. Nothing he did was ever  
enough. She still went away.

*That's the problem,* he thought, with a bitterness unusual for him.  
*People can trust me, but I can't trust them. Can't trust them not to  
leave me. Not to go away if I show them that I care.*  
 _  
_Everyone has left him, all his life. Even Ray Vecchio in the end.  
Kowalski is the only one who ever stayed. The only one who had a chance  
to leave him, and didn't. Fraser wonders what that means, or if it means  
anything. To Ray, anyway. He knows all too well what it means to him.  
He wonders how his life became so twisted that even Ray's continued presence  
in it, his friendship, is now cause for pain.

He even wonders if that friendship had something to do with Janet's departure.  
Despite his declaration that she could trust him, did she sense that  
his heart was elsewhere? _  
_  
"Hit me, Ray," he mumbles, so miserable he doesn't even realize  
he's voiced his thoughts aloud.

*********************************************************************************

I let go of the Mountie when we get to my GTO, and head for the driver's  
side. But just as I turn away, start around the front of the car, I  
think I hear him say something crazy. I stop, and look at him sideways.  
"What? Did you just ask me to hit you, Frase?"

I stare at him in disbelief. He closes his eyes for a second. I'm not  
sure if he's exasperated, or about to pass out. "I may have, Ray,"  
he says at last. "I'm not sure."

I blink. I don't even know how to take that. If he wasn't so straight,  
I'd think he was on something _._ "That is too weird. Why  
would I pop you? You haven't even done anything! Lately, anyway."

Fraser opens his eyes, but he doesn't even crack a smile at my little  
joke. "Yes I have," he says in a low voice.

I get the weird feeling he's talking about the Torrance chick. But what  
could he possibly have done with her that'd make him guilty enough to  
ask me to pop him?

*Did he fuck her?* The idea hits me like a hammer. *Oh no! No way.  
He wouldn't. Not Frase! Not in a million years. It'd take him that  
long to work up to it, for one thing, and she only stayed at the Consulate  
for one night! Besides, she had her kids with her. No way!* _  
  
_*Still--he cried when she left. That's gotta mean somethin'.*

I shoot a suspicious glance at him, but he's staring at the ground, and  
I can't tell what he's thinking.  
I feel weird. A bit angry. *Dunno  
why. Why should I care if he had her? Why should I care if he hauled  
her upstairs to the fucking Royal Suite, or whatever the hell he calls  
it, and nailed her on the Queen's sacred bed, for Crissakes? It's not  
like I wanted her! And Hell, he's so uptight he could use a good fuck�*

All of a sudden, I get this image in my head. Fraser naked. Well, half  
naked anyway. Jacket off, bare chested, and he's holding Torrance.  
Kissing her. Eyes closed, hands in her hair�.

*Shit!* My stomach twists, and I go past almost angry to a full burn  
in a second.

*Wait a second! Whoa! Down, boy!* I stare down at my boots, freaked  
out by the pictures in my head. Have to shake myself to make them go  
away. Try to get a grip, 'cuz I just imagined myself into what felt  
like a fit of jealousy. *Jeez! What the hell's up with that? Haven't  
felt that way since the day I saw Stella kissing Mr. Dirty Politician.  
Am I jealous of Frase? How can I be, when I didn't even like Janet Torrance?  
When I don't even know if he did anything with her, either? Knowin'  
Frayzh, he probly never touched her. That kiss was probly just somethin'  
my own dirty mind dreamed up. I must be goin' nuts!*

"Tell you what, Frayzh. I'll pop you if you'll pop me." And  
I'm only half joking. *Maybe he's not the only one who could use a good  
smack upside the head right now.*

He doesn't get my little joke. He frowns at me, looking totally bewildered.

*S'okay. He doesn't know what crazy stuff goes on in my head. Thank  
God.* So I cut him some slack. He looks so bad already, I don't want  
to hassle him. "Look, let's just forget about hittin' each other,  
okay?" I smile. "I mean, if we do that again, we'll have to  
file assault charges this time. And who needs the paperwork?"

Fraser just nods, like he's too miserable to insist.

*Aww, come on! That was a joke too, ya know? Least you coulda' done  
was smile,* I think. *Man oh man, yer in bad shape.* "Just get  
in the car, Frayzh," I sigh. "We'll get some food. You'll  
feel better."

***********************************************************************************

I sit beside Ray as he drives us to--to--I suddenly realize that I actually  
have no idea where we're going. Ray's chattering away beside me, but  
for once, I'm not really listening. I don't care where he takes me,  
though I gather it will be to an establishment that serves beer and pizza.  
Kowalski has a rather touching faith in their combined ability to cure  
everything but the common cold. I don't think they will help me, but  
I don't have the heart to tell him.

Actually, I'm not at all sure, as I stare blindly out the window into  
the darkness, that I even have a heart anymore.

*I've hidden it for so long, denied it for so long�. I may be Bob  
Fraser's son, but in the end, I'm a man like other men, with the same  
needs other men have. The need for more than mere companionship. The  
need for love. Surely a man's heart will wither and die, like a flower  
in snow, if deprived of love for too many years. Of any hope of love�.*

*Don't you think so, Ray?* I want to ask him. *It is, I think, an interesting  
philosophic question: how long can a man survive without love?* But  
I know Ray has had his problems in this area too. He has an ex-wife  
whom he loved very much, and lost. I don't want to reopen old wounds  
for him, don't want to torment him. Surely I'm miserable enough for  
the both of us tonight.

So I don't ask him. But I can't get the question out of my head. *How  
long can a man live without love?* Some people would say a lifetime.  
Some would probably say love isn't a necessary part of life at all.  
When I was younger, I might've agreed. I didn't think much about it  
myself when I was growing up, or even when I first joined the RCMP.  
Perhaps because I had never experienced much of it. I think I assumed  
somehow that it would come to me in time, that I would be blessed with  
the treasure of someone else's heart one day, like other men were�.

*Instead, there was Victoria.*

*Victoria, who could never make love without biting or scratching me�Victoria,  
whose love was tainted by hate, but whom I was too lonely to resist.  
Victoria, who brought me shame, pain, suffering and almost death. A  
death that, by the time it hovered close, I actually longed for. A death  
I would've gladly embraced, except for Ray Vecchio. In the end, he was  
all that held me back from the brink. When I regained consciousness  
after being shot, and learned that Victoria had not returned for me,  
I wanted to take enough of the painkillers they'd given me to end my  
miserable life. I longed to die. But one look into the guilty green  
eyes of the man who sat by my bed every day, and I knew I couldn't do  
that. Shooting me accidentally had wounded Ray so deeply that I couldn't  
let myself die, for he would've blamed himself for that too.�*  
 _  
_*Ray loved me. As a friend, maybe even as a brother. More in his  
own way, I think, than Victoria ever did. Perhaps more than anyone has  
in my life so far, except my own parents. And so I came back from the  
dead for him. Crawled up out of the hole Victoria had carved into my  
heart and tried to live again. To leave the shame and pain of my only  
experience of a woman's love behind me, and carry on as if it had never  
happened.*

But it did. And it changed me. Even now, as I stare out the window  
of Ray Kowalski's car almost two years later, I still bear the scars  
of what she did to me. The scar of Ray Vecchio's bullet, meant for her,  
on my back; the scar of the awful fear she left me with on my soul.  
Fear that had little to do with that bullet, and everything to do with  
love.

Though I seldom spoke of her after she fled, even to Vecchio, my ill-fated  
attempt at loving her sent ripples spreading slowly through my life that  
are still in motion today. Now, every time I meet a woman for whom I  
feel something, distrust rears its ugly head. A little voice in the  
back of my mind whispers, "No. Don't. She could betray you."  
I've tried to tell myself that other men harbor similar fears when meeting  
women, that fear of rejection is common�but I know my fear goes  
deeper than that. I don't fear being turned away, I fear being accepted.  
I fear the appearance of love that masks a desire to manipulate. To  
wound. To devour.

*I fear nothing less than the total destruction of my soul if I ever  
allow myself to love again _._ * _  
_  
Ripples�.

I managed to deny them for a time. To disregard them, while Ray Vecchio  
was here. His loyalty, his compassion helped me through the darkest  
time of my life. Made me understand the true meaning of friendship,  
of partnership. *If I cannot have love,* I told myself, *at least I  
have that _._ * If not a lover, at least I had a brother. If not  
happy, I was at least content.

But then Ray left me.

I believe that he didn't want to. Though the secrecy vital to his new  
identity kept him from saying so, I think he was trying very hard to  
convey that, to tell me goodbye that day on the phone. Because I knew  
him so well, I could hear undercurrents of unexpected emotion in his  
voice: affection tinged with regret; a kind of fatalism I had never  
heard before. And the words he used�our friendship was something  
he never usually spoke of, but during that short phone call, he used  
that word again and again. He kept saying we were friends, that it was  
"good to hear my voice".

It was good to hear his too. But those unusual undercurrents in it made  
me listen very closely to him; and the sadness in his voice sent a chill  
down my spine. Despite his reassurance that "everything is all  
right", I knew that it wasn't, that something was badly wrong.  
So I wasn't entirely surprised when, as he'd hinted, he didn't meet Dief  
and I at the train station on my return.

But when I got to the 27th and learned that he'd left without even saying goodbye, I was  
shocked. My best friend, my brother, had gone away. Left me behind,  
of his own free will. It devastated me. I learned later that he'd gone  
undercover on a very important assignment, that he was merely doing his  
duty. I'm sure he thought that I, of all people, would understand that.

*I should've been able to. God knows, I tried. But when I returned  
to the U.S. after my ill-timed vacation, my apartment was gone, Ray was  
gone--everything that had made Chicago a tolerable place for a homesick  
Canadian was gone. I managed to find another apartment not long after,  
not far from the location of my old one, but Ray's friendship wasn't  
so easily replaced.

Ray sent me a post card once shortly after he left, but after that, though  
he had sworn he would "be in touch", there was nothing. No  
phone call, no letter�no communication from him whatsoever, for  
almost a year. Intellectually, I understood that: it was too dangerous  
for him to try to contact me, or anyone from his former life, while posing  
as a Mafia hit man. But emotionally, I was devastated. Nothing since  
the loss of Victoria had hit me as hard as losing Ray did. I discovered  
that loneliness and isolation can bite just as deep as a bullet. I felt  
as if Ray had fallen off of the edge of the world; and it became a very  
cold and lonely place for me without him.

All that was left was the man who had replaced my brother: Stanley Raymond  
Kowalski. And he was a total stranger.

I hated him a little for it at first, I think. Hated him or having blonde  
hair instead of black, for not understanding me the way Ray Vecchio did--for  
not being Ray, though he had taken his name. It was that resentment,  
I think, that initially made it difficult for me to call him Ray. His  
tendency to call me a "freak" and to cut me off every time  
I tried to relate an Inuit tale didn't help either. It made me feel  
very alone, like a fish out of water again, when I had finally just begun  
to feel somewhat at home in Chicago. And I feel alone enough normally,  
without my own partner adding to my sense of isolation.

Kowalski and I didn't start out on the right foot, as the Americans say.

So I am at a loss to explain how it happened. How I got from point A,  
the point of my return to Chicago, Ray Vecchio's departure from it and  
my resulting loneliness, to point B, where I am sitting beside Ray Kowalski  
in his GTO on this very dark night, feeling�* _  
_  
I push that feeling away. It is illogical. It is even dangerous. _  
_I remind myself of why. _  
  
_*We are very different people, Kowalski and I. Polar opposites,  
in some respects. He operates on instinct, shows his feelings openly,  
has a volatile temper and became a policeman almost by accident. I am  
logical to a fault, find it nearly impossible to express my emotions,  
am slow to anger and was born, I sometimes think, to wear red serge.  
We should've driven each other crazy long ago, or transferred away from  
each other when we had the chance _._ * _  
  
_But on this subject, logic does me no good.Because we didn't  
do that. Didn't separate when we could have, when logic and common sense  
told us that we should. We did the irrational thing, and stayed together.  
And I know why: because as different as Ray Kowalski and I are, the  
truth is that there is no one in the world who is closer to me now than  
he. That was my reason for staying, anyway--I've never been sure what  
his reasons were.

I never meant for this to happen, swore to myself after Vecchio left  
that I wouldn't allow myself to care so much a second time, to get so  
close to his replacement�. But somehow Kowalski, with his glasses,  
his rough edges and tentative smiles, danced his way past my defenses.  
My deep dependence on my new partner is a difficult truth to face sometimes,  
especially when I consider the painful way Ray Vecchio suddenly left  
me, and the fact that Kowalski might one day do the same. But I have  
accepted it. Because the fact is, when it came down to it, I simply  
couldn't let Ray go.

But once I faced that truth, it led to the discovery of another, even  
more illogical one, that is almost impossible to bear.

That truth is that now, roughly a year after Vecchio's sudden departure,  
I sit beside Ray Kowalski in despair, having once again pursued a woman  
to no avail�when all I really want in this world is him.

***********************************************************************************

The Mountie's awful quiet. I tell him about the place we're goin' to,  
The Home Run Inn on 31st St. "They've got some of the best pizza in Chitown.  
Dartboards too. Ya ever play darts, Frase? They've got pool tables  
too. Or billiards, you'd probly like that�"

But I'm not so sure he hears me. He's starin' out the window like he's  
a million miles away. "It's near Comiskey Park. Ya ever been there,  
Frase?" I try again. "To the Home Run, I mean."

"Mmm," he says.

It's not much of a reply, more like a grunt. *But I can see that's all  
I'm gonna get outta him for awhile. I look back at the road, and sigh  
to myself. I know he doesn't drink, but I gotta get a few beers in this  
guy tonight, if it kills me. Gotta get him loosened up, make him have  
some fun. Even if it's only the innocent kind, the kind that doesn't  
involve violence or women.*

*'Cuz I think that's what he needs. And after watchin' him brood out  
the window for twenty minutes while we get there, I just might need some  
cheerin' up myself.*

*********************************************************************************** _  
  
_Ray takes me to a combination bar and restaurant called The Home  
Run Inn. It serves pizza and beer and has pool and billiard tables and  
dart games.

I have no appetite for any of it. But that's not Ray's fault. At least,  
not entirely. And to the extent that it is, he is completely unaware;  
and must remain so. So for his sake, I try the pizza. "This is  
very good," I say. But that's perilously close to a lie, for I  
don't really taste it. My mind is elsewhere. All I see are Victoria's  
eyes, and Janet's. Eyes that judged me, and found me wanting. *What  
is it that Ray sees in me that they didn't? Why is he here with me,  
when they're not?*

More questions for which I have no answer.

Ray shoves a cold mug into my hand, derailing my train of thought with  
his usual casual energy. I stare down into it, detect the scent of beer.  
And while American beer is weaker than Canadian, I don't drink. So I  
push it away. "No, Ray, I�"

"Come on, Frayzh!" he says. "This is America! I know  
it's different up in Canada, but down here we drink beer with pizza."

I stare down at it, remembering other meals with another friend. I  
remember with a sudden twinge that Ray Vecchio used to tell me the same  
thing. Ray liked beer with pizza too, but I never drank it with him.  
I hesitate. Not because I don't want the beer, but because I do. *Ordinarily,  
I have no trouble declining spirits, but tonight I am strangely tempted.  
Tonight, I don't want to be reminded yet once more that I don't fit in  
here. That I don't belong. Tonight of all nights, I want desperately  
to belong�*

"Look, I promise, I'll won't let you get hammered," Ray grins,  
coaxing me. "I'll cut you off at eighteen or nineteen brews, tops.  
And the second you put a lampshade on yer head and start dancin' on the  
table, I'll drag ya outta here. I swear."

The idea of that is so absurd, and his smile so infectious, that I find  
myself smiling back at him a little, in spite of myself. "I would've  
thought you'd want to sell tickets."

His grin widens. "I would, but I'll restrain myself." He  
holds up a hand. "Swear on my badge."

"Ahh," I say wryly. "The sacred oath."

"You got it."

I curl my hand around the mug of beer, considering it. It feels cold,  
as cold as Ray's smile is warm. And the idea of having a beer�just  
one beer with my new Ray�feels liberating. Even a trifle wicked.  
And tonight, wickedness has a strange appeal. I feel my usual self restraint  
weakening, and a kind of fatalism taking its place. *If I am on a slippery  
slope, so be it. At least Ray is beside me while I slide. At least  
I will drink this beer with a friend, instead of sitting at home alone  
in my apartment, aching inside for what might have been.* _  
  
_*Any place, even a slippery slope, is preferable to that.*

"Well �maybe just this once," I say. I lift the mug of  
beer.

Ray raises his mug too, and clinks it against mine in a happy little  
toast. "That's it! Yer gettin' the hang of it! I'll make an American  
outta you yet, Frayzh."

"Indeed." He's still smiling, but I have to look away, because  
that sounds like something Ray Vecchio would've said, too _._ And  
that realization comes tinged with loneliness and something oddly like  
guilt. Once, my thoughts of Vecchio were simple. I just missed him,  
more than I could say. I still do, but now my longing to see him again  
is mixed with a curious kind of shame. Because I can seldom think of  
him now without those memories being interrupted by the image of Ray  
Kowalski's smile. As more and more time goes by with no word from him,  
Ray's green eyes are being slowly displaced by Kowalski's intense blue  
ones in my mind, as surely as they have been in reality. _  
_  
I sip the beer. It tastes bitter.

***********************************************************************************

Ray shoves his second beer away with a contented sigh. He's had six  
pieces of really good ham and pineapple pizza along with it, and the  
Mountie is actually working on his second beer too. *Well, maybe nursin'  
it would be a better word,* Ray thinks wryly. Still, since he's never  
seen Fraser down a brew before at all, he's not complaining. The fact  
that he actually ordered a second means he's done better than he'd expected  
at loosening him up.

Though all is obviously still not right with Fraser's world, he's not  
nearly as depressed as he looked when they first came in. His blue eyes  
have lost their sad preoccupation. He's sitting with Ray at the table  
now and he's really looking at him, listening to him. Living in the  
moment, not off in a dark corner of his head thinking dark thoughts anymore.  
It's a definite improvement; and the night's still young. Encouraged  
by his success so far, Ray says, "Okay, Frayzh. Face stuffing time  
is over. Now it's time for a game. You 'n' me, one on one. What'll  
it be, pool or darts? Take yer pick."

Fraser hesitates for a second. Stares down into his beer as if he's  
thinking about saying no. But Ray isn't about to let him get away with  
that. He gets up and jogs his elbow playfully. When Fraser looks up,  
he shadow boxes a little, dancing lightly on his feet, like the boxer  
he used to be. "Come on, Frayzh!" he grins, shooting light  
little mock jabs at his friend's head. "Chicago P.D. versus the  
RCMP. I'm in the mood to whip some Canadian butt. Yer not scared, are  
ya?"

For just a second, Fraser freezes. Only his eyes move. They raise to  
search Ray's intensely, as if that question somehow struck home. But  
before Kowalski can even blink, the look is gone. Shoved down into wherever  
it is the Mountie hides his emotions. Even as he's wondering what the  
hell it meant, Fraser takes one last sip of his beer, sets his jaw, then  
gets to his feet with his usual grace. His face is wiped clean of everything  
but a sudden look of determination. "Remember the war of 1812,  
Ray?" he asks ominously. "The one where we sent you packing?"

"No," Kowalski shrugs. But he's lying. He does remember it.  
Not because he's much interested in history, but because Fraser's mentioned  
it before. But he won't give him the satisfaction of admitting that.  
*Dumb little war anyway. He's just fixated on it because it's the only  
one where Canada ever beat America _._ * _  
  
_Still, the fact that Fraser brought it up now means that Ray's gotten  
under his skin like he wanted to, because Ben only talks about that war  
when he's feeling competitive. *Not that he'd ever admit that, o' course.  
Wouldn't be sportsmanlike.* But Ray knows he's got him going, so he  
smiles, and bobs and weaves a little more. Takes another mock jab at  
Fraser's head, to whip him up further. Pow, pow!

That does the trick. Fraser catches his right hand in a smooth, easy  
move that's deceptively swift. Closes his big fingers over Ray's and  
forces his hand down, accepting his challenge. He lifts an eyebrow.  
"Start packing, Ray," he says, a warning gleam in his eyes.  
"We're playing darts. RCMP vs. Chicago P.D. The best out of five  
wins the match."

*Yes!*Ray grins broadly. "You got it!"

 

But some thirty minutes later, Ray is shaking his head in dismay. Wondering  
what the hell he was thinking, challenging Fraser at darts when he hasn't  
played much before himself. Fraser's beating the pants off of him.  
They've only played three games so far, and Fraser's won them all. Turns  
out the Mountie plays darts the same way he does everything: with frightening  
efficiency. As the Canadian throws another one right into the exact  
center of the bullseye, Ray rolls his eyes in frustration. "Jeez!  
How d'you do that, Fraser?" he blurts. "I mean, how do you  
hit the bullseye with *every dart*? Every damn *time*? That's not human,  
that's like�like a robot or something!"

Fraser raises his right hand calmly. "It's all in the wrist, Ray."

Ray blinks, mystified. "Well, I got a wrist, and I thought I knew  
how to use it, but�"

"Here," Fraser says. He gestures towards Ray's right hand.  
"May I?"

Ray nods. "Sure."

Fraser takes Ray's wrist lightly in his, bends it up and back, into the  
correct position to exert maximum centered force in a throw. "You  
see?" he asks.

Ray looks up at him, trying the position out experimentally. Suddenly,  
a delighted smile breaks over his face. "Yeah! Yeah, I get it.  
The heft's different that way�I got it!"

Fraser pauses. He's suddenly, achingly aware that he's touching Ray,  
that Ray's hand is warm and that he's smiling into his eyes. That Ray  
smells good, like pizza, beer and cologne�And that he doesn't want  
to let him go.

*Oh God.*  
 _  
_***********************************************************************************

Ray frowns. All of a sudden, as the Mountie's showing him how to get  
the right wrist action in his dart throw, Fraser gets a strange look  
in his eyes. Intense, like he wants something badly�but sad, too.  
Like he knows he can't even ask for whatever it is, because he'll never  
get it. Ray feels the big hand on his wrist tense up. *Jesus�is  
he thinkin' about Torrance again? Shit!* He doesn't want her coming  
between them again, interrupting them just when he thought he'd got her  
off Fraser's mind completely�just when they're having fun. But  
he tries not to let his irritation show for Fraser's sake. "You  
okay?"

Fraser swings away from him abruptly. Drops his wrist like it's a hot  
potato. "Yes. I'm fine," he says. But he doesn't sound fine.  
And he rubs his right eyebrow, which proves it. Ray's known Ben long  
enough to have analyzed his body language by now, and that little gesture  
means he's upset. But he obviously doesn't want to talk about it,  
so Ray decides not to pry. He turns back to the dartboard with a little  
shrug. Hefts the dart carefully, the way Fraser showed him, and throws�

"Ha! Bullseye!" he yells, elated. It's one of the few he's  
gotten so far. "All right! Chicago P.D. scores! That's more like  
it."

He turns, pleased that Fraser's throwing technique helped, expecting  
that Fraser will be happy for him too. Instead, he discovers that for  
some reason, while his back was turned, Fraser was staring at him with  
that weird look of longing again. He frowns, because he's seen that  
look in his own eyes some mornings when he wakes up from dreaming of  
Stella. *But why the hell's Fraser eyeballin' me like that?*

Fraser turns away before he can ask him what the problem is. "You  
know, I find I'm rather tired, Ray. Would you mind if we stop now?"

"Aww, come on, Frayzh! You gotta give me a fair chance here. I  
just learned how to throw," he protests. But inside, he's thinking,  
*No. That's not it. He's not tired, he's upset about somethin'. That's  
why the look. That's why he wants to go.* _  
  
_*But I don't _.*_ Ray suddenly realizes that he didn't drag  
Fraser here tonight just to cheer him up; he brought him because he didn't  
want to be alone, either. Because he wanted to be with Fraser more than  
anyone else. And he's rarely felt closer to the big Canadian than he  
has in the last few hours. He doesn't want that to end.  
 _  
_***********************************************************************************

After the sudden surge of emotion he felt when he touched his partner,  
and the effort of hiding it, Fraser suddenly feels tired. Worn out.  
Old before his time. He's had to suppress deep feelings so often in  
his life that it's long since become automatic�but not tonight.  
Just now, when he touched Ray, it seemed to require an inordinate effort.  
Letting go of him was incredibly hard�and he didn't do it nearly  
fast enough. He's afraid that the detective caught him watching him,  
and that he may have inadvertently let some of those hidden feelings  
show in his eyes. The very idea makes him uneasy. He doesn't know if  
the beer he's drunk is affecting him, but he decides it would be wiser  
not to find out. So when Ray protests his decision to leave, he insists.

"Actually, Ray, since we agreed to play till the best out of five  
games, and I've already won three, the match has already been decided  
in favor of the RCMP," he says firmly. "There's no possible  
way you could win." He regrets the words as soon as they're out  
of his mouth. They sound cold, and a bit smug. And unduly harsh as  
well, since he senses Kowalski asked to stay not so much out of a desire  
to beat him at darts, but because he's enjoying his company.

"Yeah, yeah. Yer right. It's just that I was just gettin' the  
hang of that throw, ya know?" Ray edges closer to him, smiling  
tentatively, like a young boy begging his best friend not to go home  
yet, not until they've hit just one more ball�. It's an odd look,  
equal parts a plea for attention and also a kind of insecurity. As if  
Ray's not entirely sure that Fraser returns his affection.

*I've seen that look before.*Fraser feels a twinge of guilt.  
He wonders how much his natural reserve is responsible for that insecurity,  
for the fact that Ray still looks that way sometimes, even though they've  
been friends and partners for almost a year now. He has tried to tell  
Ray that he considers him a good friend, even his best friend, but sometimes  
he doubts that Ray believes him. No doubt that is his fault as well.  
He has never been good at conveying his emotions. And tonight, he doesn't  
dare even try. Tonight, in the wake of yet another abandonment, the  
hint of vulnerability in Ray's blue eyes cuts into Fraser like a knife.  
So deeply that he has to turn away from him to keep from reaching out  
and�

"I'm sorry, but I really am tired, Ray," he forces himself  
to say. "Maybe we can play again some other time." He doesn't  
want to say that, doesn't really want to leave. He would like nothing  
better than to spend the entire evening with Kowalski, lose himself in  
his ready grin and forget his pain for awhile longer. But he doesn't  
dare prolong their intimacy. His emotions are oddly chaotic tonight.  
He feels like a light plane being bounced about on thermal updrafts,  
soaring the moment Ray smiles at him, then plummeting the next, when  
Ray turns away and his memories take hold again. It frightens him more  
than a little. He dreads losing control as he dreads few things in life;  
and he's already come perilously close to it once tonight, when Janet  
left him at the station. It's bad enough that Ray may have already seen  
tears in his eyes. It would be best to go home and lick his wounds in  
private, so to speak, before things get any worse. Before he makes a  
complete fool of himself.

Ray nods, trying to hide his disappointment. Shrugs. "Okay. You  
win. But next time, huh?"

Fraser tries to smile at him. "Yes. Next time, Ray."

But as they pull on our jackets and walk out to the car, he can't help  
wondering if there will be a next time. If Ray will ever ask him there  
again, after the way he just treated him. And he doesn't feel like a  
winner. He feels like the world's worst loser. Because except for a  
wolf who sticks by him, and the man at his side, he has nothing in the  
world that matters.

*The real hell of it is, I wouldn't need any more than that to be supremely  
happy. If only�.*

As he reaches for the car door, he feels tears start again in his eyes.  
He curses himself for a fool as they climb inside, and prays that the  
darkness will keep Ray from seeing them this time. *Please,* he prays,  
to a god of whose existence he's never been sure. *Please, just let  
me make it home without cracking.*  
 _  
_*********************************************************************************** _  
  
_When we get into the car, I look at Fraser out of the corner of my  
eye. His eyes are shining like he's crying again. I feel a twinge of  
concern, mixed with frustration. "Look, umm � I don't wanna  
pry or anything, but are you gonna be okay, Frase?"

He looks away, out the window. "I'm fine, Ray."

I bite the inside of my cheek at that. *Here we go again! Same  
old story. If I only had a nickel for every time I've heard that one!  
Fraser could be lyin' in a hospital bed dyin', and he'd still be sayin'  
that. But it's a lie, and we both know it. I hate that! Why won't  
he tell me the truth? I talk to him about stuff that bothers me. Why  
can't he? Would it kill him to admit, just once, that he's human? That  
he's got problems? It's not like talkin' about stuff like this is easy  
for me, either. Stella used to say I'd rather die than do it.�  
But for her sake, I tried. Maybe not enough--maybe that's part of the  
reason why she left. But I've gotten smarter since. Don't let stuff  
go unsaid when it's someone I care about anymore.*

"You don't look fine," I say stubbornly, trying to pry it out  
of him.

Fraser doesn't answer. He just stares out his window like he didn't  
even hear me.

My frustration mounts. *Jesus! That strong, silent act pisses me off  
sometimes. I want to yell at him, ask him, Did you do this with Vecchio  
too? Did you make him as crazy as you make me?* But I don't. Fraser's  
already upset, and I want to help him, not make things worse. Don't  
want him to think I'm jealous, either.

But maybe I am. Because while I drum my fingers on the steering wheel,  
trying to think of something helpful to say to make him open up, all  
I can think of is his old partner�the real Ray Vecchio. *I wonder  
if Vecchio would've known what to say�what he did in situations  
like this. Or if they even had moments like this. Did Fraser keep deep,  
dark secrets from him too, or is it just me?*

*I think about Vecchio a lot. Too much, maybe. But I can't help it,  
because Fraser talks about him all the time, and it bugs me. I mean,  
he makes him sound like some kind of cop god or something, with his Armani  
suits and his memory for noses! It's always "Ray used to say this,"  
and "Ray used to do that." I've never even met the guy, and  
I already hate him!*  
 _  
_It suddenly hits me that I don't like anyone Fraser has feelings  
for. *Vecchio, Torrance, that Metcalf chick�. And two of them,  
I never even met! Why is that? Am I really that insecure? So damn  
pathetic that I don't want him to have any other friends?*I  
shift a little in my seat, uncomfortable with that thought. _  
  
_Fraser picks that, of all moments, to speak up. But not to tell  
me what's bugging him, of course. Oh, no. He doesn't even look at me.  
He just says, "Can we go home now, Ray?"

My blood pressure goes up another notch. *What am I, a chauffeur?  
I take him out, try to distract him, and what's the thanks I get? He  
hardly eats anything, whips me at darts, then asks to go home before  
we're even done with all our games! Plus, he won't tell me what's tearin'  
him up inside. That's the worst of it.* "No! No, we can't just  
go home, Fraser. We're not goin' anywhere, until you tell me what's  
eatin' you!"  
 _  
_Fraser sighs. "Nothing, Ray. I'm just tired." But the  
strain of all that denial is starting to show in his face. A muscle  
jumps in his cheek where he's set his jaw really hard, trying to hold  
it all in.

That little twitch makes me feel a little guilty for barking at him.  
*What must it be like, having to be so polite, so damn perfect all the  
time? Can't imagine. Not sure I want to.* "Come on, Frayzh.  
I'm only tryin' to help," I say, quieter this time. "Can't  
you tell me what's wrong?"

He looks down at his hands for a long moment. "I would if I could,  
Ray," he says at last. "But you can't help me with this."

He sounds so sad that it gets me where I live. Right then, I know I'm  
not just gonna take him home and dump him off, no matter how much he  
wants me to. *I've gotta pry this outta him, or die tryin'.*  
 _  
_********************************************************************************* _  
_  
I don't know what to say. I feel Ray's eyes on me, searching my face  
in the semi-darkness, and I'm so close to losing control that it's actively  
painful, like he's shining a searchlight on my innermost heart. And  
I can't let him do that. There are things in there that would shock  
him�things that would cause me to lose him.

"What? What is it, Frayzh? Is it that Torrance chick?"

I stare mutely down at my hands, not answering. Not knowing how. *Yes,  
it's her. And no, it has nothing to do with her--*

"Frayzh�whatever it is, I won't tell anyone else, I promise.  
You can trust me." Ray is so serious, so earnest, and his voice  
is so gentle that it's suddenly all I can do not to weep. *You can trust  
me�those words hit me like a blow. That's what I said to Janet,  
but she left me anyway. And he would too, if he knew�. What can  
I say to him? What can I possibly say? How can I tell him that I'd  
trust him with anything, with my life�but not with this? Because  
he is my life now, and this would make him go away.*

I close my eyes, so miserable that it's hard to hold back my tears.  
"It's not that simple, Ray�"

He frowns at me. I can see his volatile temper is rising in direct proportion  
to my resistance. "How bad can it be?" he demands. "I  
mean, I tell you everything, don't I? Hell, I told you how I almost  
got Beth Boutrelle killed. And I told you all about how it made me nuts  
when Stella was datin' Orsini and all�. You even know I followed  
her. You've seen how nuts I get. What could you possibly have done  
that could be worse than all that? Worse than me?"

I shake my head, my misery increased by the mention of Stella. Ray speaks  
of her often, probably more often than he realizes. He has no idea how  
his love for her hurts me, but at this moment, I would give anything  
if she didn't exist. I hate myself for such petty jealousy, but I feel  
it nonetheless. And Ray's naivete about my character only makes this  
worse. I remember Victoria, and the awful things I did while under the  
spell of my love for her, and think that surely he would despise me if  
he knew even half of them. "I've made a few mistakes of my own,  
Ray," I say hoarsely. "Worse than you know."

"That's the point! We all make mistakes," he says quietly.  
"Everybody. Even Mounties are allowed. If you've done that �made  
some kinda' mistake, I mean �you can tell me. I won't�you  
know--judge ya or anything. I promise." Ray reaches out to me,  
puts his hand on my arm. Gently, hesitantly, as if afraid his touch  
will be unwelcome.

*If he only knew�.*I shake my head helplessly again, unable  
to speak. I'm touched by his kindness, by his faith in me, unjustified  
though it may be. I feel tears begin to flow despite my best efforts  
to hold them back. My self control is going, slipping away like water  
from a broken dam. My thoughts are chaotic.

*I shouldn't have had that beer. Should never have arrested Victoria.  
I shouldn't have beaten Ray so badly at darts. Shouldn't let him touch  
me. I can't bear his touch now, I can't�* _  
_  
And yet I don't push him away. Instead, I feel myself lean towards him  
a little, because part of me knows that if I go one more minute without  
his touch, I'll die�

Ray's brow furrows with concern. "Damn, are you cryin'? Jeez�."

The next thing I know, his hands are on my shoulders, and he's pulling  
me towards him. I resist the gentle pressure, wanting it yet panicked  
because I'm terrified of letting him get that close� "No,"  
I say, trying to protest. But it comes out more like a sob.

"It's okay, Frayzh. It's okay." His voice is gentle, and  
so are his hands. But he doesn't let go. Won't let me move away. Despite  
my stiffness, he pulls me into his arms and holds me, his hands warm  
on my back, my head cradled on his shoulder.

Somewhere in the dim recesses of my brain, an alarm bell sounds. _  
*_ I shouldn't be doing this. It isn't dignified. Worse than that,  
it's dangerous. I should push him away, compose myself�.* _  
_  
But my hands curl to grip his coat instead. I can't find the strength  
to do push him away. I just can't. *Maybe Janet took my courage with  
her when she left�the little I managed to salvage after Victoria  
left me. Or maybe the beer washed it away. I don't know. All I know  
is that I love Ray Kowalski so much it hurts.* _  
  
_*And in his own way, he must care for me, or he wouldn't be doing  
this.*

I cling to that thought like an anchor in the sea of chaotic emotion  
swirling inside me. *Ray cares for me.* Tonight, I need to believe  
that. Need to know that someone else in the wide world cares that I  
exist. Need to feel that at least one pair of eyes looks on me with  
favor rather than scorn. I feel my hands slipping around Ray's back.  
Sliding over the supple coolness of his leather jacket. Embracing him,  
as tears sting my eyes.

But even as I do, I know the moment will be fleeting. I wait for him  
to make a joke, to grow uncomfortable with the unaccustomed intimacy.  
To say, "Okay, Frase, that's enough. Here in America, guys don't  
do things like this." I wait for him to push me away, as everyone  
always does in the end.

But Ray doesn't. He keeps holding me tightly, and even pats my back.  
"It'll be okay, Frayzh," he says. "I promise. It'll  
be okay."

He says that over and over, like a vow, in the quiet darkness of his  
car. And his compassion undoes me completely. It has been so long since  
anyone has touched me like this, held me�really cared for me�.  
I feel myself start to shake as my tears thicken, blinding me. I bury  
my mouth in his leather-clad shoulder in a desperate attempt to still  
my sobs. But the sadness in me is so deep that once tapped, it isn't  
easily stilled. My tears rain down on his jacket anyway. I can't stop  
them. *My God _,_ *I think in total despair. *Ray will despise  
me, he will lose all respect for me--*

But there is no scorn in Ray's voice as he says, "Just tell me."  
He tightens his arms around me. "Tell me what's wrong, and I'll  
help ya. I promise."

**********************************************************************************

 

Fraser is shaking. Shuddering in my arms, his breathing ragged, his  
whole body tense with a futile effort to hold back his tears. He's trying  
so hard he's almost choking, and his hands grip my back like he's desperate�but  
he's still crying.

*Jesus. What the hell did they do to him, all those people in his past?  
And how am I gonna fix it?* "Who did this to you, Frayzh?"  
I say fiercely. "Who hurt you? Huh? Tell me, and I'll take 'em  
apart."

He shakes his head. "I c-can't, Ray�"

He tries to pull away, but I hold onto him. "Then tell me how to  
help you, dammit! Tell me what you need, what'd make you feel better.  
I don't care what it is, I'll get it. I swear. Even if it's illegal!  
Just tell me�"

I want to say "I'd do anything for you," because it's true.  
I would. But I can't say it--the words just won't come. But I feel  
it. Sitting there holding him while he cries, I hate whoever did this  
to him so much that I realize he's the one person in the world other  
than Stella and my mom and dad that I'd kill for.

 

**********************************************************************************

"Tell me," Ray says.

But I know that's impossible. Unthinkable. With the last shreds of  
my crumbling resolve, I try to refuse. I shake my head. *No.*

But he persists. Gently, firmly�irresistibly. "Tell me what  
you need," he says, and the compassion in his voice reaches down  
inside of me and tugs powerfully at the truth. The deep, dark, shameful  
truth I've hidden for so long, for fear of losing him. For fear of losing  
myself, as I once did with Victoria�.

"Tell me," he says again. *Tell me�.*In the  
dark, quiet intimacy of Ray's car, the words become a spell, an incantation.  
Ray's rough magic pours over me, through me, conjuring elemental changes.  
My barriers melt away like so much smoke in the heat of his embrace.  
I dig my fingers into his back, surrendering at long last. Knowing I  
would've done so if it meant my death.

*Knowing that it may.�*

"You," I whisper, turning my head so the word is breathed against  
his cheek. In his ear. "I need you, Ray." Half crazed, half  
in despair, half relieved that I've broken at long last and need dread  
it no longer, I lean forward ever so slightly. Embracing my doom as  
inexorably as I've embraced him, I press my lips to his cheek. I kiss  
him. So there will be no mistake. No chance that he can misunderstand,  
or forgive me. His skin is soft and warm�.

*So�. This is how it feels to fall.It's been so long,  
I'd almost forgotten.* It feels dark. Inevitable. And--just for  
an instant�unutterably sweet.

***********************************************************************************

 

Fraser finally gives in. Finally tells me what he needs. Whispers just  
one word in my ear: "You."

I freeze. *Don't believe it. Can't. Must've heard him wrong. I mean,  
I was thinking he might need a vacation, a change of scenery. Maybe  
even a transfer home. But me? What the fuck--?* _  
  
_I look at him sideways, my head spinning. Both of us tense up.  
His eyes are wide, and fixed on me. He's got tears on his cheeks, but  
he looks�hungry. Scared. Intense. Almost desperate. *Like he's  
goin' down for the third time, and I'm the only one with a life preserver.  
It's so weird. No one's ever looked at me that way before. Not even  
Stella. Like without me, they'd die.*  
 _  
_It sets something off deep inside me, that look. A kind of excitement,  
like a little explosion down in my belly. I try to ignore the strangeness  
of that, too. Blink at him, trying to make sure I'm not seeing things. _  
*_ Cuz this can't be happening�.* _  
_  
But I didn't have anywhere near enough beer to be drunk, and that look's  
still there in his eyes. And he's so close it makes me dizzy. Then  
things get really surreal. He says it again. "I need you, Ray."  
His fingers are pressing into my back. I feel his breath on my skin.  
And I know he means it.

*Holy shit.* I turn my head towards him, like I'm hypnotized or something.  
Maybe I am. Then he bends his head�and I know what's going to happen.  
But I tell myself, *No. This is Fraser. He wouldn't�*

But he does. He leans forward a bit more and kisses me on the cheek.  
Softly. Gently. I can feel him shaking--

I can't move. Can hardly remember how to breathe. All I can feel is  
his warm mouth on my skin. All I can think is, *He's lost it. He's  
totally lost it. He's nuts!*

*But I must be too. Nuts. Outta my head. 'Cuz it feels good. His  
warm mouth. The way he's shaking against me�. I feel him all of  
a sudden. Feel his body in a way I didn't before, when I was just trying  
to comfort him. Feel the hardness of it, the muscles under his coat�how  
big he is. How strong. He feels good, so good�. That thrill shoots  
through me again. Electric. Intense. Like fireworks goin' off inside  
me.*

I hold onto him. Tighten my grip on his arms. Turn my head so our lips  
brush. It looks accidental, but it isn't. He gasps, a little breath  
of surprise that sounds loud in the strained silence. *I want more.  
God, I want--*

Just before I start devouring that perfect mouth, I come out of it suddenly,  
with a jolt. Come back to earth. Remember who I am (Ray the Attitude)  
and who he is (Fraser the Perfect). I remember how Stella left me, even  
after we were married. *What the hell is he doin' with me? To me? What  
the hell am I�*  
 _  
_I pull back. Disconnect us. Sit up straighter, and let him sink  
back into his own seat again. Listen to us both breathing hard. An  
awkward silence settles in around us. "Frayzh," I say finally,  
in this shaky voice. "What was that? What the *hell*was  
that?"

He twines his fingers together, so tight it must hurt. Stares down at  
them while that muscle twitches in his cheek again. After a long pause,  
he finally whispers, "Oh God. I'm so sorry, Ray! But I think�.  
That was a kiss. I just--kissed you."

*No shit, Fraser! I noticed that! The world's straightest Mountie just  
kissed me! Oh, man�. And I didn't push him away like I should've.  
Hell, I enjoyed it. Almost threw myself on him. I haven't done that  
in years. Haven't touched a guy since junior high. Haven't wanted to.  
Not since Stella�. Never thought I ever would again. But it never,  
ever felt like that before. Nowhere near that intense. Not with anyone  
but Stella. I can still feel his mouth on my skin. What the hell does  
that mean?*

I push back over into the driver's seat hastily. Put a few more inches  
between us. Close my eyes. I'm exasperated. Confused. Maybe even  
a bit scared. Worst of all, turned on in a major way. "I know  
that, I know what it was!" I snap at him, freaked out. "I  
mean why? Why'd you do it?"

I don't look at him. Can't believe this is happening�. *One minute  
I'm tryin' to help him 'cuz he's hurting, and the next minute he's�kissing  
me. Shit!*

Fraser doesn't answer me. Maybe he can't. I don't say anything either.  
I know I should probably shout at him, maybe even smack him. That would  
be the guy thing to do, the sane thing to do, but I don't. I can't.  
Me, Mr. Impatient, born premature�I can't even move. I just sit  
there, my head spinning, and wait for him to explain this impossible  
thing somehow. Fraser's good at that. Has a goddamn Inuit story for  
everything. And I'm so used to them now that I actually expect it.  
Can't wait to hear the one that'll save his butt this time. The one  
that'll prove that didn't mean what I think it did.

*This is just a little custom we have up in the frozen north, Ray, he'll  
say. A guy buys you pizza and beer, loses to you at darts and lets you  
cry on his shoulder, then you have to kiss him to say thanks. This Inuit  
hunter named Frozenass started the custom centuries ago. Now everyone  
does it. So that's why I kissed you. It's nothing personal, Ray. I  
was just being polite.* _  
  
_I wait for him to tell me something crazy like that.

But Fraser doesn't say anything. He doesn't even look at me, but I can  
hear him breathing hard. Same as me. And I'll bet his heart's beating  
just as fast as mine. So I know he wasn't just being polite, know that  
kiss wasn't a way to say thank you. And the weird way he looked at me  
while we were playing darts, he wasn't being polite then either. Wasn't  
thinking about Torrance like I assumed.

*He was thinkin' about me. Wantin' me.*

*Oh, man! It's just hard to wrap my head around all that�What it  
must mean. You get used to thinkin' about a guy a certain way, then  
find out he's not that way at all�* _  
_  
Then it hits me. *Fraser must be straight! He had a thing for that  
Torrance chick, I know it! But if he is, what the hell's he doin' kissin'  
me?*For a minute, I'd forgotten all about the bounty hunter  
chick. Now that I remember her, I'm even more confused. Not just about  
Fraser, but about me. Because the same dark, nasty feeling I felt about  
her before comes back, only ten times stronger. And this time, I know  
what it is: it's jealousy all right. It's intense, powerful. And it  
shocks me about as much as his kiss just did.

Because I'm not jealous of Fraser because he might've had her�I'm  
jealous of her, for having him! Worse yet, I was feeling that way before  
he ever kissed me.

 _Jesus�_ Now I'm so confused, I don't know what to say. What  
to think. I want to hold my head, because things have suddenly gotten  
so weird. *Am I crazy? Is he crazy? What the hell is this? I mean,  
just a few hours ago, he was cryin' because Torrance left! And I've  
been missin' Stella for months�. So what the hell's goin' on here?  
I mean, when I woke up this mornin', I coulda' sworn we were both straight�now  
we're both bi? Jesus!*

And as if that wasn't confusing enough, insecurity raises its ugly head.  
*Okay, say I'm right. Say he meant that kiss, say he does want me.  
What the hell for? What the hell would a guy that good lookin' want  
with me, anyway? It's not like I'm gonna make the pages of GQ. Is he  
playin' with me? Just lookin' for a quick fuck, 'cuz he feels shitty?*

By the time Fraser finally speaks, I'm so frustrated, so mixed up and  
angry I'm ready to burst.

"I'm sorry, Ray," he says again in a low voice.

He doesn't look at me, and he sounds totally miserable. Oddly enough,  
that makes me feel better. Cools my rage. Whatever's going on with  
him, he's way too unhappy to be playing games. *Should've known that  
anyway I guess�. Fraser's not the type. So maybe I'm not the only  
one feelin' like I'm goin' nuts here. Maybe he's even more confused  
than I am. Fraser's not a touchy-feely kinda guy, so what he just did  
must be an even bigger deal to him than it was to me. Maybe he's ashamed,  
maybe he thinks I hate him�*

"S'okay, Frayzh." The words slip out automatically. But we  
both know they're not entirely true. I mean, I don't hate him, but it's  
not okay. What he just did changes everything. Everything. We were  
partners, we were friends. Now�

*Now, I don't know what the hell we are.*

All I can think is, _*_ How long has he felt this way? How long?  
And how come I never picked up on it? Shit, I'm supposed to be a detective,  
and my own partner wants me and I don't even know it! And what the hell  
am I gonna do about it? He'd probly love to crawl back into his shell  
and ignore it, but I can't. Can't forget the way he sent sparks shootin'  
through me with that one little kiss. That fuckin' innocent, goddamn  
crazy dangerous kiss�.* _  
_  
I feel angry. Confused. Excited. "But I mean�. What the  
hell do we do now?"

Fraser doesn't answer me. *Probably cuz he doesn't know, any more than  
I do. Jesus, I'd give anything for a road map through this little mine  
field.*

"Please�. Could you drive me home, Ray?" he says. "I  
just want to go home." Guess I'm not the only one who needs a map;  
he sounds like he's so lost he's forgotten his own name. He's not sobbing  
now, but I think I see something glittering on his cheeks again.

That gets me. "Don't do that, Fraser," I say. "Don't!  
It's not the end o' the world. It was just a little kiss. It's not  
like you killed somebody, dammit!" But I'm so emotional myself  
that it comes out gruff, like I'm mad at him. He winces, so I shut up.  
*But maybe I am mad at him�a little. For droppin' this bomb on  
me, makin' me feel what I never expected to feel again.*

" _Please_ ," he says again. He's almost begging, and it  
makes me feel like a creep. A jerk. Even though I didn't start this.

"Okay. I'll drive you home," I say hoarsely. *Just don't  
cry anymore,* I want to tell him. But I don't want to embarrass him,  
so I keep my mouth shut, lean over and start up the GTO. Not knowing  
what else to do, I pull away from the curb and out into traffic.

Fraser's tears shine silver in the dim glow of the dashboard lights as  
we go. _  
_  
***********************************************************************************

The ride back to my apartment that night is one of the longest trips  
of my life. Ray and I are silent most of the way, and it feels like  
I'm dying. Or maybe it's our friendship that died, killed in that insane  
moment when I pressed my lips to his cheek. That moment that had to  
happen sometime, that was perhaps my fate, has cost me the most important  
person in my life.

*How long can a man live without love, Ray?*

I have my answer now. Forever. I'll go my whole life without ever knowing  
love, because every time I feel it, it's for the wrong person. The pain  
of that pulses through me, until I become one massive ache.

All of me, that is, except a tiny part of my heart that cannot regret  
kissing Ray at last. No matter the cost. Because at least for that  
tiny instant, I was able to give love�even if it could not be returned.

I didn't really think that it would be. My past has taught me not to  
expect that. Deep inside me, a tiny voice whispers, *It could've been  
worse. At least Ray didn't hit me.*

 

***********************************************************************************

When I finally pull the car to a stop outside Fraser's apartment, the  
silence between us is thick. So thick that when I switch off the engine,  
you'd think we were the only two people left in the world.

Maybe we are. The only ones that count right now, anyway. I wait for  
the Mountie to start undoing his seatbelt, and suddenly see that he hasn't  
even been wearing one. More evidence of how upset he is. Like I needed  
more. Least he isn't crying now, though.

"Home again, home again," I say. Trying to lighten things  
up a bit, to reassure him.

It doesn't work. Fraser sets his jaw, looks down at his hands. "It  
won't happen again, Ray," he says in a low voice. It sounds mechanical,  
like a little speech he rehearsed while I drove. "I promise. I  
promise you�"

I believe him. And I know I should agree. Should say "Yeah, you're  
right, we'll just forget about this."*That'd be the sensible  
thing to do. The smart thing. We can both tell ourselves Frase just  
had a bad day, then a little too much Budweiser, and leave it alone.  
But I've never been sensible. Too late to start now. Besides, what  
about those fireworks that went off when he kissed me?* _  
  
_"Why?" I hear myself ask him instead.

Fraser lifts his head. Stares at me in total confusion. "What?"

I can't believe I said it either. I must be nuts. But I go with it,  
remembering his kiss. Trying to remember the last time something�anything--made  
me feel that good. *Stella. It was Stella _._ * I push away a twinge  
of pain at that. "I mean, why aren't you gonna do it again? Was  
it that bad?" I try to sound cool, like I'm teasing him, but deep  
down, I know I'm not.

"No! No, it was�. It was wonderful," Fraser says. His  
voice is husky, and his eyes are wide, and he swallows hard. "Ray�"

It's perverse, but now that he's admitted he liked it, I feel a sudden  
surge of fear. Do a 180, and take it all back. "Forget I said  
that, ya know? It's crazy! Nuts, that's what it was."

The spark of hope that filled Fraser's eyes for a second dies away.  
He hangs his head, nodding mutely.

That makes me mad. *I hate that! Hate how he takes rejection without  
a word. I know it's not just his good manners, it's 'cuz he's used to  
bein' hurt. 'Cuz he's been hurt so much it's all he expects from anyone  
anymore. Even me.* And that makes me feel shitty. I swallow hard,  
and change my mind again. Go with my gut. Tell him the truth. "What  
I mean is �we should probly just forget it. That'd be�the  
smart thing to do. But I don't think I can."

Fraser lifts his head and searches my eyes, and I can feel his surprise.  
"What are you saying, Ray?" he asks, and his voice is hoarse  
with hope he can't quite hide. And I feel this surge of unbelievable  
excitement. Like he just opened a door I never imagined existed, and  
what's behind that door is everything I've always wanted. All I have  
to do is reach out and take it. Take him�.

Then I get scared again. *The last time somebody looked at me that way,  
we were teenagers, and I ended up disappointing her. We said it was  
forever, but she ended up leavin' me. Don't wanna go through that again  
with him. Don't wanna hurt him by jumpin' in dick first, the way I always  
do. He's been a good friend, I gotta be careful with him. Go slow.*

I tell myself, *Use yer brain for once, Kowalski. Think!*

So for Fraser's sake, I hold back. Don't grab him like I want to. I  
force myself to sit still and think about it. My throat feels dry so  
I swallow, and take a minute to pick my words. "I just dunno how  
I feel about it. I mean, we're not drunk, so that wasn't some kinda  
fluke, some kinda' mistake, was it?" I'm not sure if I need reassurance,  
or if I'm trying to give him a chance to back out after all�I'm  
not even sure I want him to.

He doesn't say anything for a minute. I find myself hoping, like the  
crazy man I am, that he won't say, *Yes. It was an error. I just lost  
my head, Ray.*

But he doesn't. He just shakes his head, staring at his hands. "No,"  
he whispers finally. "No mistake. I've been �thinking about  
it � for a long time."

Wow! I get a rush of feelings: relief, surprise, curiosity, excitement.  
*How long?* I want to ask, but Fraser's so private I know he'd either  
resent that or not even answer it, so I don't. "Okay. But it's  
late, and you're tired, and I�" *No, that's wrong. Sounds  
like the worst kind of copout. Start over.* "I don't know if we  
should�" I stop again, frustrated. *How the hell do I put  
this: I dunno if we should fuck? I've never heard him use that word,  
ever. It'd probly freak him out completely, and things are bad enough  
already.* "I don't know � if this is a good idea," I  
say carefully.

Fraser doesn't say anything, doesn't even look at me.

Can't tell what the hell he's thinking. But I don't want him to get  
the wrong idea, don't want him to think I'm saying no here. "I  
just need some time to think about it. Okay?"

Finally, Fraser lifts his head and blinks at me. "To �think  
about it?" he echoes, astounded. "You mean�you mean you  
don't�That is, you're not angry? You don't want to hit me?"

He sounds so stunned it makes me smile. I stare at him, thinking how  
amazing he is. How little boy innocent, even though he's so smart.  
I shake my head. "No."

He tilts his head a little, looks at me in disbelief. "I expected  
you'd at least threaten to pop me, or maybe even kill me�"

I laugh softly. Lean towards him a little, loving the way his eyes go  
even wider as I come close. "No. I don't wanna kill ya, Frayzh.  
Kiss ya maybe�but not kill ya�."

He doesn't move, doesn't try to get away. So I do it. I know it's crazy,  
but how the hell could things get any weirder than they already are?  
So I put my mouth on his. Cover those beautiful lips with mine just  
for a second. Feel how warm they are, how soft�how amazed. Then  
I feel him shiver.

"Ray," he breathes shakily. He reaches for me, puts his big  
hands on my shoulders.

His mouth is open and warm, and I want it. Want it so much�. He  
feels so good that I could lose it completely with him. _*_ Two  
little kisses, and I already know that. Feel it in my gut. Wanna push  
him down on the seat and take him. Right here, right now.* _  
  
_But then a memory flickers through my head. I see him crying, see  
that bleak look in his eyes�and it stops me cold. _*_ How do  
I know this is what he really wants? I mean, he says he's been thinkin'  
about it for a long time, but just a few hours ago, he was cryin' over  
a woman. I think he's confused. So I shouldn't take advantage. Don't  
wanna fuck him, then have him hate me for it in the morning. Don't wanna  
be part of that look in his eyes. Not now, not ever.* _  
  
_So I pull back. Fast. For once in my life, for his sake, I use  
a little restraint. I sit back before the fireworks go off inside me  
again, and I can't stop myself. Before I take that warm mouth hard,  
use my tongue, find out what he tastes like�put my hands all over  
him�  
 _  
_*But just thinkin' about how he'd taste gets me excited. Jesus,  
I'm as bad as he is! Or just as far gone�.*

"Go home, Frayzh," I say. Not without regret. "Go home  
and lemme think about it."

He nods, but he looks scared.

I hurry to reassure him. "I'll pick you up after work tomorrow,  
and we'll talk, okay? I just need a chance to figure this out. One  
day. Maybe you should think about it, too," I tell him. And I  
mean that. *It's not like he'd be gettin' some kinda' prince or somethin'  
in me, that's for sure. More like a three time loser, with lotsa' bad  
habits. I figure Frase oughtta know that by now, he's known me long  
enough, but still�. The last time I felt somethin' like this was  
with Stella�and look how that turned out. And at least she was  
a woman. Doin' this with Fraser�Shit! It's not bad enough he's  
a guy, he's a cop too. Could be major trouble. We could both end up  
in a world of hurt over this, and he's the last person I wanna hurt.*

"All right, Ray." Fraser nods again, but I'm still not sure  
he got it. That he believed me. I'm not sure he understands that wasn't  
really a rejection. He's got a strained look on his face, like he's  
still scared he ruined everything.

"Listen�I don't want ya to sit up all night, worryin'. Okay?  
I mean, I don't know what anyone mighta' done to you before, like before  
I met you, but � I won't hold it against you. We'll still be partners.  
Yer still my friend, no matter what. No matter what you decide, no matter  
what I decide. Okay?"

He lets out a deep breath I didn't even know he was holding. He nods,  
looking so relieved it's almost funny. "Yes. Yes, certainly, Ray.  
I understand. A day would be good. A day would be fine. Actually,  
it would give us both a chance to think. To reflect. To�"

"Yer babbling, Frase. Go on in," I smile. That way, I won't  
have to listen to a half hour of pure gibberish. "Go home, before  
ya talk me out of it."

"Yes. I'll just � I'll go now," he mutters. "Yes.  
Thank you, Ray."

"Yeah. Sure." But I smile at him. *Cuz he's so damn cute  
when he babbles.*

*Jeez! You sound like a goddamn teenage girl,* I tell myself, shaking  
my head. But I don't really mind, because it's true�he is cute.  
*Very cute.* I watch Fraser get out of the GTO. He's moving real slow,  
like a guy who's so shocked he's on autopilot. I stare at his back as  
he shuts the door and walks away from the car. _  
  
_*Nice back. Hell, it's beautiful. Broad shoulders, narrow waist,  
tight butt�. I've noticed it before, that he's built I mean. But  
only in guy terms, like it's good that he's strong because it means he  
can take care of himself. Never looked at him like that before. But  
I'm looking now. Enjoying the view.*

Fraser turns around to look at me once, blinking as if he thinks this  
has all been a dream and I'll just up and disappear.

I play with him a bit. Can't resist. I slide my tongue between my lips.  
Wet them in an erotic little signal he can't miss. I know that'll convince  
him I'm real, because hewould never dream something like that.  
*Tomorrow,*I mouth silently at him through the window. Intimate  
as a kiss. Then I grin at him, wicked as I know how. Ray the Attitude  
strikes again.

His eyes go wide. He swallows hard, shakes himself--and backs up into  
the outside wall of his apartment building.

*Heh, heh. That got him!*

I try not to laugh as I fire the GTO up again. I figure it's okay to  
leave him. *He's zoned out now, but he'll find his way inside eventually.  
He's a Mountie after all.* As I drive away, I look in the rear view  
mirror and see him watching me; and I feel a little vibration inside.  
Like a drum beating somewhere deep in my heart. Don't know if it's hope  
or insanity, but it's because of him; because he wants me. And it feels  
good. It feels amazing.

It feels like I've already made up my mind.

***********************************************************************************

Fraser stands there for a long time. Stands with his back against the  
wall of his apartment building, staring after the lights of the GTO long  
after it's disappeared.

*Ray knows. He knows.*

The words fill his head. *He knows he knows he knows he knows�.*

It was the one thing he'd always thought could never happen. The calamity  
that would destroy him. But it hasn't. Ray doesn't hate him. Didn't  
hit him. Didn't try to hurt him. Didn't even seem very angry. Had  
promised that their friendship would survive even this, even that feverish  
moment of madness when he finally revealed his innermost heart.

*He knows I love him, and he didn't try to destroy me.*

*He's not Victoria.*

*He's not going to leave me.*

*He's not Ray Vecchio.*  
 _  
_Standing there on a dark Chicago street, Fraser feels a light dawning  
inside him, like a midnight sun. _  
_  
***********************************************************************************

"Is something wrong, Constable?" Inspector Thatcher's voice  
has suddenly grown sharp. Startled out of a memory of Ray Kowalski's  
kiss, Fraser glances down at his watch. *Great Scott! How did it get  
to be ten thirty?* The last time he looked, it was 9:35 am precisely,  
which means that while taking Thatcher's dictation, he has been lost  
in a day dream of Ray for nearly an hour!

And that day dream has been decidedly erotic. He keeps remembering how  
warm Ray's skin was against his lips, the arch of his angular cheekbone  
beneath the skin. He's imagined kissing him deeply, has even imagined  
what it might be like to take his clothes off. To bare that slender  
body he has never seen�. He has tried not to get his hopes up about  
what the evening may bring, about what Ray's decision may be, but it's  
difficult. He didn't sleep much last night, after Ray left him. He  
felt almost giddy with happiness, with relief. It's still hard for him  
to believe that Ray doesn't hate him for what he did. His promise to  
maintain their friendship no matter what is a minor miracle, something  
he'd never dared hope for.

But that he might even have liked his kiss, that he might want him too--

That seems a miracle of Biblical proportions to Fraser, something akin  
to Moses parting the Red Sea, or the Israelites' escape from Egypt.  
Ray is so tough, so macho, he'd just assumed he'd be horrified by his  
kiss. Revolted. But if he had been, he wouldn't have turned his head  
so that their mouths met, would he? *Well�. Maybe I shouldn't  
count that. It might've been accidental.* But Ray had kissed him again  
after that, of his own volition. Ben blushes a little, remembering that  
hoarse voice saying: "Kiss ya maybe. But not kill ya�."  
The kiss that followed hadn't been accidental at all. It had been purposeful.  
Intentional. Unbelievably thrilling. And the way that Ray smiled at  
him after he got out of the car�. Well, that smile wasn't just  
suggestive, it was downright sinful. And even a Mountie can dream.

*But this isn't the time,* he reminds himself belatedly. Sternly. *You're  
at work. Behave yourself!* He blushes and twitches under Thatcher's  
cold glare as if it were the proverbial ice bucket thrown over his dilatory  
head. "No, no," he says hastily. "Everything is fine,  
sir. You were saying?"

"Yes. What did I just say, Fraser?" Thatcher's hazel eyes  
are about as warm as chips of ice, and her voice is rapidly dropping  
towards sub-zero temperatures. It's obvious she has noticed his distraction,  
and thinks he's been daydreaming when he should've been writing.

And she's absolutely correct. He has been. He can't remember what she  
was discussing, not for the life of him. Fraser looks down at the pad  
he's been writing on, momentarily unsure how to answer. But there it  
is on the pad, in his usual neat, efficient shorthand. Apparently, while  
part of him was elsewhere, part of him had, in fact, kept working. *Thank  
God.*

He reads aloud with considerable relief, "If I may recap, sir.�  
Your last paragraph began: 'As the acting head of the Chicago Consulate,  
I feel it is my duty to inform the Commissioner that all such reports  
issuing from this office for the past year were�"

Thatcher waves a hand finally, interrupting him. "Fine, fine, Fraser.  
Skip to the last line, please." He's not sure if she's pleased not  
to have caught him napping, or disappointed. But he suspects the latter.  
She looked ready to deliver one of her customary biting reprimands, and  
he's very glad to have escaped it.

"Very well." He goes back to his transcription task, but even  
as he looks back at his pad, the room fades out around him. All he sees  
are a pair of intense blue eyes that turned him inside out somehow last  
night, without even trying. As no one but Victoria ever has in his life.  
Tonight, those eyes will decide his fate, for good or ill.

Fraser prays those eyes will smile on him. That for once in his life,  
he will be allowed to love. To give love, and to be loved. He knows  
it would be a miracle�but even Mounties dream�.

*********************************************************************************

Ray can hardly wait until Fraser's shift is over. He leaves the 27th right at five o'clock, and is  
outside the Consulate waiting at 5:30. He knows Fraser doesn't get off  
until 6:00, and that he never, but never, leaves a minute early. Not  
even on a Friday night like this. But he's been thinking about him all  
day�. Thinking of all they've been through, and how Fraser was  
always there for him, no matter what. How he saved his life even when  
they weren't getting along very well that time. How he trusts him more  
than he trusts anyone. How he can't really imagine what his life would  
be like anymore, without the Mountie in it.

Thinking about the fireworks his kiss set off inside him, too.

Unable to stay away a minute longer, he parks outside on the street and  
watches the front door like a hawk, tapping his fingers restlessly on  
the wheel and waiting�. Waiting for Fraser. Waiting in his best  
pair of blue jeans and a new blue t-shirt that he even ironed that morning.  
*Can't believe I did that�* Waiting wearing Polo he secretly splashed  
on in the can at the 27th, before he left. Waiting for Fraser, knowing he will notice  
all of that, because he always notices everything.

 

***********************************************************************************

Lt. Welsh sticks his head out of his office door at 5:05 p.m. "Where's  
Kowalski?" he barks, to no one in particular. Detective Dewey  
puts down his cappucino, unaware that it's left a frothy moustache on  
his upper lip. Without looking up from his case file, he answers absently,  
"Don'tcha mean Vecchio?"

Welsh grimaces. "I mean Ray. Skinny guy. Blonde. Five feet ten.  
Always looks like he hasn't seen the business end of a razor in weeks.  
Hangs around with a Mountie. Ring any bells for you, Detective?"

"Yeah. He just left," Dewey shrugs, unmoved by the Lt.'s sarcasm,  
or his urgent wish to see Ray.

Welsh sighs heavily. He's been so swamped lately, what with the backlog  
of work from the recent blue flu epidemic and finishing up official reports  
regarding the issue of bounty hunters roaming around shooting up the  
streets of Chicago in search of wayward ex-husbands, he hasn't had a  
chance to tell Ray yet. And now he's gone. He feels a twinge of guilt.  
He wanted to give him the news in person�. "I'll call him,"  
he mutters wearily to himself as he steps back inside his office again.

***********************************************************************************

At 5:45, a tall figure in a bright red uniform and a Stetson steps out  
the front door of the Canadian Consulate. Ray blinks in surprise. *Must  
be Turnbull,* he thinks for a second. *No, the height's wrong. It's  
Frase! Jeez, he left work early. For me! He's never done that before.  
Must be a good sign. Please God, let that mean what I think it means�.*  
He sits up, heart beating fast. Because he's not the only one involved  
in this�and he has a question Fraser needs to answer before he can  
give his own.

Then Fraser turns his head and spots the GTO. Suddenly, he's taking  
the Consulate steps two at a time, practically leaping down them towards  
Ray, in a totally unMountie-like burst of speed. Seconds later, he's  
at the driver's window, leaning over a little, peering in at him. He's  
trying to look dignified and composed, but can't quite manage it. He  
looks breathless, and incredibly handsome. When their eyes meet, he  
smiles. Shy, sweet, hopeful. "Hello, Ray!"

Kowalski's heart turns over. *If I hadn't already made up my  
mind, that woulda done it. Guy would have to be a fool, to turn away  
a lover with a smile that incredible. And my Mom didn't raise no fools�.*  
 _  
_"Hi, Frayzh. Hop in." Ray has to suppress an urge to  
kiss that silly, wonderful grin off Fraser's face as he climbs in beside  
him. Has to, because they're sitting in front of the Consulate where  
anyone could see them.

*But that's easy enough to fix.* _  
_  
He puts the GTO in gear, and the car slides away from the curb with one  
surge of its powerful engine. Ray devotes a second to admiring that  
ready, fine-tuned response�but only a second. Because he's far  
more interested in other responses just now. Male ones. Sexual ones.  
"I've been thinkin' about you," he smiles at Fraser as he slips  
the car into traffic. "All day." It feels strange smiling  
at Fraser that way, flirting with him the way he used to with Stella.  
But good too. Because he never felt better in his life than when he  
loved Stella.

*If I could have somethin' like that with Fraser, who's a good guy, and  
so beautiful�I could deal with that. I want that _._ *

Fraser's fingers work the brim of his hat. "And I you, Ray."  
He swallows hard, looks down at the Stetson nervously. "Have you  
� that is, have you had enough time to think? To come to a decision?"

"About us, ya mean?"

Ray is teasing. He knows exactly what Fraser means, and as he turns  
the GTO down a quiet side street he spied earlier, he feels his heart  
beating faster at the thought of it. Him and Fraser as an 'us'. *We.  
Us. Him and me. Ray and Ben. It feels good. Feels right.* _  
  
_"Yes. About us," Fraser says, and Ray smiles at the hint  
of uncharacteristic impatience in the Mountie's voice. He pulls the  
car to a stop in a dark area between two office buildings and shuts off  
the lights, feeling Fraser's tension mounting as he waits for an answer.

But Ray's been waiting too. Waiting all day, waiting ever since he drove  
away last night in fact, to get the Mountie alone like this. He's planned  
this in advance, dreamed of it all day while he was sitting at his desk  
at the 27th supposedly  
working case files. He's even planned out how he might say it: "Ben,  
I want you." He's never called him that before, he's never called  
him anything but Fraser. But things are different now. *They're* different.  
They've already kissed, and Ray figures if he's lucky, tonight they'll  
do a lot more. *And there's no way I'm gonna make intimate with a guy  
and call him by his last name. It's gonna be Ben from now on, at least  
when we're alone. Maybe even Benny.* That's Frannie's pet name for  
Fraser, and he's always secretly liked it, but was afraid to show it.  
He's not afraid anymore. He repeats it in his head: *Ben. Benny."  
He finds he wants to say it, can't wait to see if Fraser will understand  
what that means.

"Yeah, Ben. I've been thinkin' about it," he says.

Fraser's eyes widen, and he smiles. Just a little smile, but their eyes  
lock and Ben's are so warm that Ray knows he got his little signal.  
He knows what it means�and he looks happy. *It's a sign,* he tells  
himself. *So go ahead�do it!" He leans forward a little,  
still holding Ben's smiling eyes with his, and his heart is beating fast.  
Too fast for any fancy speeches now, too fast for many words at all.  
So he just tells the truth. "I haven't been able to think about  
anything else since last night," he breathes, "but this�"

He leans over, grabs Ben's shoulders and kisses him. Hard, with all  
the pent-up frustration of a whole day largely spent thinking about his  
mouth, and what it would be like to do this to it. To cover it. Force  
it open. Taste it.�

Fraser moans at his hungry onslaught. Moans into his mouth, and clutches  
at him. That only increases Ray's excitement. He dives deeper into  
Fraser's mouth, finds his tongue and strokes it madly. *Ohhh, yeaahhhh�.*  
 _  
_Fraser's arms slip around him, drawing him closer. Fraser's tongue  
sucks at his, a gentle tug that sends a thrill right down to his boots.  
It's all the encouragement Ray needs. He pushes him down, down onto  
his back on the seat like he fantasized about doing the night before,  
and kisses him even harder. And it feels wonderful. He feels Fraser's  
heart pounding against him, and his breathing getting deeper, more like  
gasps. Feels Fraser getting hard, and loves it. Feels himself getting  
harder still, at the realization that Fraser can feel his arousal too�.

 

***********************************************************************************

Fraser feels like he's about to pass out from pure pleasure. Ray hasn't  
answered his question, but he admitted he's been thinking about him ever  
since they parted last night; and he called him Ben. Ben, not Fraser,  
Frayzh or Frazoor, but his name. His real name. His first name. As  
if he wants to get closer to him. That precedent was exciting in itself,  
and now he's kissing him like there's no tomorrow. Ben decides that  
perhaps that is Ray's answer. If not, for now, the words can wait.  
Will have to wait�. God himself would have to wait if He came knocking  
at the window now, for Fraser wouldn't give up a second of such bliss  
for anyone. He's waited so long for this, so terribly long, and he feels  
his body humming, opening like a flower in Ray's passionate embrace,  
to Ray's hot mouth.

So he doesn't resist when Ray pushes him down onto his back on the seat.  
In fact, it excites him. He pulls Ray even closer. Soon they're straining  
together, breathless and shivering. Ray's body is warm and wiry, slender  
and muscular and he's growing deliciously hard against his groin. *Ray  
wants me,* he thinks with a rush of joy. *He wants me!*  
 _  
_He hears himself moaning as Ray's tongue dances with his. Breathless,  
hungry moans of pure pleasure. Hears Ray moaning back. As their loud,  
erotic duet goes on and on, somewhere in a dim, still rational part of  
his brain, he thinks they shouldn't be doing this in a car parked out  
on a public street, but he can't bring himself to care. It's fairly  
dark here, and besides, after thinking about Ray all night and most of  
the day, he probably would've let him push him up against a wall and  
do this, if he'd wanted to. *Shameless,* he tells himself, but he's  
so far gone that seems a compliment rather than a reproach.

Fraser clutches Ray tightly. Growing bold, he slips his hand up underneath  
his jacket and strokes the smooth, bare, heated skin of his back beneath  
his shirt. Ray's new t-shirt, which is a wonderful shade of blue that  
matches his jeans and his eyes. He inhales deeply, detecting the spicy  
scent of Polo, secretly thrilled that Ray wore cologne for him, and maybe  
the shirt too�.

It makes the extra thirty minutes he spent ironing his uniform that morning  
seem worthwhile.

He strokes the hard muscles in Ray's back, and Ray groans deep in his  
throat. It's a delicious sound, and Ben wants more of it. Taking the  
initiative, he pulls Ray up a little. Takes his head in his hands and  
kisses down his cheek to the rough blonde beard stubble that has always  
fascinated him. He licks it, savoring the texture, swirling his tongue  
down the firm line of his partner's jaw.

Ray sucks in a ragged breath. "Oh yeah. God, that feels good,"  
he whispers.

Fraser smiles to himself. That's what he wanted to hear. _  
_  
***********************************************************************************

Some indefinite amount of time later, Ray finally sits up again. His  
hair is tousled. So is Fraser's. The Mountie's jacket is unbuttoned,  
and Ray's shirt is pulled halfway up his chest. Neither man cares.  
Both feel like they've barely gotten started, yet the steamed-up condition  
of the car's windows says otherwise. Bears mute testimony to the passion  
they've been indulging for some time.

"Wow," Ray says, grinning.

"Indeed," Fraser agrees.

They stare at each other, hardly able to believe what they've been doing.  
Both men are breathless, intensely aroused, and their lips are bruised.  
Both want more.

***********************************************************************************

"What do you want, Ray?" Fraser asks me when we finally come  
up for air.

It's the same question I asked him last night. But last night he was  
sad. Tonight, he looks breathless. Tousled. Irresistibly appealing.  
Happier than I've ever seen him.

*Don't need to think about it. All I wanna do is make him happier still.  
And keep him that way.*  
"You. I wanna make love to you, Ben."

Still, Fraser hesitates. "Are you sure, Ray? I mean �are  
you sure that's what you really want?"

*That really chaps my butt. If I wasn't, d'ya think I'd be sittin' here?  
D'ya think I'd've spent the last ten minutes rollin' around the front  
seat of my car with you if I wasn't sure it's you I want? I've never  
felt so sure of anything in my life, except with Stella.* _  
  
_But I don't tell him that. I just say, "Yeah, I'm sure. Are  
you?"

*That's my question. I did some hard thinkin' today, and I kept comin'  
back to that. Couldn't get past it. I mean, he started this whole thing,  
but why'd he start it last night? We've known each other a long time  
� and he said he's been thinkin' about kissin' me for a long time.  
If that's true, why'd he wait until last night to do it, until after  
Torrance dumped him? I gotta know. Everything depends on his answer  
to that. Everything _._ *

Fraser just blinks. Frowns at me like he doesn't understand the question.

I try to explain. "I mean, I know you want me, but--are you sure  
about why? This isn't just because o' Janet, is it? Maybe because yer  
just � you know � lonely an' all right now? Because I'm here,  
and she isn't?" I keep my voice gentle. Don't want to scare him,  
but I have to be sure.Because my feelings for him are deep,  
intense, way beyond one-night-stand type casual stuff. Those fireworks  
I felt before are just a small taste of what'll happen if I let myself  
go with him.I know that. It's exciting, but scary too _._

 __*I mean, neckin' in the car like this is fun, but I want more. All  
of it. Wanna fuck him till he can't see straight. But I haven't made  
love to a guy for so long�. And that's what it'll be with Ben.  
Making love, not just doing it. Hearts too, not just bodies. Not just  
sex. I know that. That's what he does to me. So I need to know if  
this is for keeps before I stick my skinny neck out. Maybe ruin our  
careers and all. Not that mine's been much so far, but it's all I've  
got. And then there's the homophobe shit we'll get from people, too.  
Includin' my own Dad. All o' that. It won't be easy.

But that's okay. If there's one thing I've learned in this life, it's  
that nothin' worth havin' is easy. And I'd risk all that for him�I'd  
go to the wall for him, and past it. I just need to be sure he'll do  
the same. That he isn't just hurtin' cuz he got dumped. If he's just  
lookin' for a warm body for a night or two, like I probably would be  
in his shoes, it'd kill me. Once I have him, I'm gonna want him again  
and again. Wanna be with him. Won't want him to even look at anybody  
else, either. I knew that as soon as he kissed me. Gotta know if he  
wants that too.

'Cuz if he doesn't, I can't do this. I couldn't stand to be with him,  
then get dumped once he feels better. After Stella, that'd kill me.  
So it's all or nothin'.*

Fraser takes a deep breath. After a long moment, he says, "Yes,  
Ray. Janet isn't.� She wasn't�What I mean is, I didn't �  
feel for her what I do for you. I mean, it's possible that in time�.  
That in time I could have. That's possible. She's very much like me.  
We understood each other, and given more time�"

*Jeez! Given more time, and half a chance, he'd talk me into an early  
grave. I don't wanna talk right now, I want action�and I don't  
wanna hear any more about Janet and how alike they were, either. Gimme  
a break! Besides, I'm not even sure Frayzh really means what he's saying  
about her. Sounds like he's tryin' to convince himself there was something  
there when there wasn't.* "Hey, hey, Fraser! Get to the point!"  
I interrupt, impatient. "What're you tryin' to say?"

Fraser swallows hard. "I'm sorry, Ray. It's hard for me to put  
things like this into words�"

I tear my eyes away from him. Stare out into space, trying to make this  
easier for him. "I know. I know it is, but tell me," I say  
in a softer voice. "'Cuz I gotta know, before we�. I just  
need to know, okay?"

"All right. What I'm trying to say is, I didn't love Janet,"  
Ben says quietly at last. "I only � tried to because I thought  
I couldn't have you." The words hang between us. Soft but intense.  
Aching with a desire Fraser must've been carrying around inside him for  
a long time. Silently. Hopelessly.

*What was it he just said? "I didn't feel for her what I do for  
you. I didn't love Janet�." So that means he does love me.  
There it is�the answer I wanted! He didn't say it, but he did.  
He didn't love her. He loves me. God knows why, but he does.*  
 _  
_I lean over again, kiss him gently. Trying to tell him how much  
his words mean to me. That I feel the same way. "You can,"  
I say hoarsely. "You can have me."

"Oh, Ray!"

Next thing I know, Fraser's arms are around me, and he's pushing me down  
on the seat this time. Kissing me before I can say another word. His  
mouth is hot, and he starts moaning. Pushing against me. He unbuttons  
my jeans, slips his hand inside and strokes me. His hand is warm, and  
it feels so good I almost whimper�but I'm surprised too. *I mean,  
I said he could have me and I meant it, but I didn't think he'd jump  
my bones right here!*

But Frase is more than hungry, he's almost desperate. Hard too, so hard  
I think it must be hurting him. Then I remember his tears last night,  
know how lonely he must've been, and I know that's why he lost control.  
*Still, he's trying to get me off, instead of himself. Typical. And  
for a second, I almost let him. Almost give in, because damn! His big,  
warm hand feels so good�.*

But then it stops.

I open my eyes and blink up at him. "What?"

He lifts his head. His breathing is rough, his face is strained, and  
he swallows hard. His whole body's gone stiff as a board on top of me.  
He pushes himself up a bit, on his forearms. "I'm �sorry,  
Ray," he croaks. "This� I didn't--mean to. Not here�."

Now I get it. His overactive conscience just kicked in, and spoiled  
the party. I'm not exactly  
shocked�Fraser's the last person  
I'd ever expect would make it with someone in a car. But it's flattering  
as hell that he got carried away enough to want to, with me. So carried  
away that he's still shaking, trying to hold it in. "It's okay,"  
I tell him, but he pulls his hand away.

Part of me wants to grab it and put it back, to tell him it's all right,  
I don't care where we are, go for it�. And for a second, I almost  
do. But the other half of me is saying *No, this isn't it. Not what  
I want either.* "All right, Frayzh. S'okay." I pat his shoulder,  
move my hands over his back in little circles. "We don't have to,  
all right?" *I gotta have him, but if it's gonna make him uncomfortable,  
we don't have to do it here.*  
 _  
_He breathes a little sigh of relief and settles down over me again,  
his body softening, relaxing. He lays his forehead on mine. "Okay.  
Okay, Ray." But then he lifts his head again, his blue eyes wide  
and worried. "But I want to! I do�"

He looks so scared it makes me smile. "Good. I do too, I just  
mean we don't have to do it here. That's all." I mean, I couldn't  
wait to kiss him, but I'm not about to jump his bones if he's nervous  
here. Besides, now that I can think again, it hits me that this is Fraser.  
Ben. Benny. *My first time with him shouldn't be in the front seat  
of the GTO, like he's some cheap, twenty dollar hooker. No way. He  
should be in my bed. On my sheets. My Mountie man, all alone with me  
in my apartment. All mine.* I've never had anyone there that I loved,  
and until now I didn't care�but all of a sudden, now I do. I want  
that. Want him there with me. I want it so bad I ache.

He looks down at me and even in the semi-darkness, it's like he shines.  
I can't believe how beautiful he is. How perfect. Then he opens his  
mouth and says, "Well, it wouldn't be very good for the upholstery,  
and�"

I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry. "Fuck the damn upholstery!"  
I lean up and kiss him again. "That's not why." But I can't  
tell him the real reason. It'd sound too mushy, too corny. "I  
just want you to come home with me, okay?" I breathe against his  
mouth. "Please�." *'Cuz if I can make love to you in  
my place, it'll finally really seem like home.*

"All right, Ray." He sits up and tugs at his uniform, an unconscious,  
familiar little straightening gesture that's so him it makes me smile.  
"Take me home," he says.

And something in the way he smiles back tells me that maybe he did get  
it after all.

 

Ray can't imagine, later on, how he ever made it home safely. Because  
Fraser keeps touching him. Feeling him. Like he can't get enough, like  
he can't believe this is really happening�.

Kowalski can't either. *Who woulda guessed Mr. Thank You Kindly, Ma'am  
could turn into Mr. Octopus Hands?* First his hand is on Ray's shoulder,  
then it's running down his arm. Squeezing his bicep. "Hey! I'm  
tryin' to drive here, in case you haven't noticed!" he protests.  
Trying to sound mad, instead of turned on like he secretly is, by Fraser's  
unexpected explorations.

"Oh. Sorry, Ray."

But Ben can't be that sorry, because that big hand is soon on him again.  
On his knee, then moving gently up his thigh. Stroking as it goes.  
Making him squirm. "Hey! Come on! That isn't fair," Ray  
gulps, hanging onto the wheel for dear life as his breath comes faster.

"Sorry�" The word's breathed in his ear this time. Tantalizingly,  
as that big hand moves even further up his thigh, and glides gently along  
his cock. Just the whisper of a touch, but it feels so damn good that  
Ray gasps out loud. Turns his head towards Fraser. "Jesus! What're  
ya tryin' to do to me?"

Fraser doesn't get a chance to answer.

"Shit!" Ray suddenly has to slam on the brakes, so hard that  
both of them are flung forward, almost out of their seats. Turns out  
that while Fraser was busy feeling him up, they've come to a red light--and  
Ray was looking at his partner instead of the road, he almost drove right  
through it. An angry driver behind them hits the horn, and Ray flips  
him the bird. Still, he's embarrassed that he was so turned on by a  
few touches that he almost killed them both. *Horny bastard,* he scolds  
himself. Then he looks down and sees that despite the way they were  
both just about tossed through the windshield, Fraser's hand is still  
on his leg.

*Make that two horny bastards.* He grins, secretly admiring his partner's  
erotic single-mindedness. *But I can't let him keep doin' this, or we'll  
both get killed before we even have a chance to fuck.* And Ray's not  
about to let anyone get in the way of a hot wrestle between the sheets  
with his Mountie�not even Fraser himself. He shoots a glare at  
him, pretending to be angry. "See? See what you're doin'? I almost  
crashed the car! Keep that up, Frayzh, and I'll pop you one!" he  
growls.

"Oh dear!" There's real contrition in the gentle voice this  
time. Fraser lets go of his leg and moves back into his own seat, blushing  
visibly.

Ray draws a deep sigh of relief. He was lying, no way was he going to  
hit Fraser. But he had to think of something to keep the Mountie off  
him, for both their sakes. *Not too far to go now, and we may just make  
it alive if Fraser stays put, and quits turnin' me on like that.* _  
_  
Fraser shakes his head. "I'm terribly sorry, Ray," he says,  
sounding a bit embarrassed. "I'm not usually so�"

"Spontaneous? Impulsive?" Ray grins.

"Yes."

"I've noticed. Must be the car," he says, catching Fraser's  
eye. Teasing him, as he's just been teased. "Classic cars'll get  
a Mountie every time. I've heard that about you guys."

But Fraser looks serious all at once. "No. It isn't the car.  
It's you, Ray." He reaches out and touches his cheek. Brushes  
the back of his hand down Ray's neck gently. "It's you."

Ray groans silently at the sweetness of that touch, those words, and  
hits the gas. He's hard already, and they haven't even taken their clothes  
off yet. *Only three more lights between us and home,* he thinks. *Please,  
lemme make it home!*

*********************************************************************************

While they're on their way to Kowalski's apartment, Ray's phone rings  
repeatedly.

*********************************************************************************

They make it to Ray's apartment safely, but not into Ray's bedroom.  
Not quite. Ray opens the door, flips on the lights, then suddenly grabs  
Fraser by the shoulder and pushes him back against the wall. Ray's face  
is set. Blazing. Determined. Like he can't wait a second longer for  
this. Fraser wonders if he's angry, if he's taking revenge for the way  
he teased him in the car. Then Ray kisses him. Hard. Demandingly.  
He thrusts his tongue into Fraser's mouth, making his head spin.

Apparently Ray isn't angry, he's aroused. Very aroused. Fraser is instantly  
excited too, by the passion flaring between them. His arms go around  
Ray's shoulders and in seconds, they're pressed together, breathing hard,  
their mouths parting only for the brief seconds it takes to vary the  
angle of their kiss. To deepen it�. The wall is hard behind Fraser's  
back; Ray is hard against Fraser's hip. Deliciously hard, amazingly  
hard.

Kowalski lowers his hot mouth to his neck for an instant. Licking, sucking�.  
Fraser shivers, holding his blonde head in his hands. He runs his fingers  
through his spiky blonde hair, which is already in a delicious state  
of disarray after their necking session earlier in the car. He loves  
touching Ray's hair, loves the unexpected softness of it, despite its  
rebellious appearance. *It's so very Ray.*

Then Ray's caressing hands brush the scar near his spine�and Fraser's  
suddenly flung back into the past. He remembers Victoria's softness  
in his arms, so different from Ray's hard body. Recalls the spill of  
her long dark hair�a flicker of muscle memory, and his hands recall  
reaching out to shut his own apartment door behind her as they embraced  
so that he could love her in private, so no one would disturb them�.

Fraser suddenly notices that in Ray's haste to kiss him, he forgot to  
close the door behind them. So anyone passing by could look in and see  
them. It crosses Fraser's mind that they're both police officers, members  
of organizations that are notoriously homophobic. And though he would  
risk his career and more for Ray, he doesn't want his desire to adversely  
affect his friend's job. He remembers all too well the disastrous aftermath  
of his last surrender to passion. How love blinded him and because of  
that, because of him, Ray Vecchio almost lost his job, his house�almost  
went to prison.

*Not this time.* _  
  
_Fraser's not going to let anything happen to his new love�his  
new Ray. *No one can see. No one can know about this.* He tries to  
tell himself he's being paranoid, but it's no use. His anxiety mounts.  
He feels exposed suddenly, frightened on Ray's behalf. He would reach  
out and close the door himself, but he can't. Ray's pinning him too  
tightly to the wall, and Fraser can't bear to push him away. "Ray,"  
he croaks finally, in a voice he hardly recognizes as his own. "The  
door! Someone might see us."

Kowalski doesn't react at first. Fraser isn't even sure he heard him.  
Ray is busy sucking at the sensitive skin below Fraser's jaw, where his  
runaway pulse is beating. Sucking hard, working at it with tongue and  
teeth until Fraser moans and shudders. Ray is kissing him so hard that  
he's going to leave marks on his neck�but he doesn't care. Kowalski's  
passion is so intense, so heady that it's affected Ben as well. He wants  
to be marked, wants to see the visible evidence of Ray's desire on his  
skin. The very thought of it makes his cock, already painfully swollen  
against his jeans, throb even harder. But despite all that, he can't  
let himself go as long as Ray might be injured by it. So he tries again.  
One last stab at caution, in the midst of rising passion. "Ray!"

Ray growls deep in his throat with wordless frustration and suddenly  
kicks out with his left leg. Kicks the door shut with one rough thump  
of his boot. Without missing a beat. Without ever lifting his mouth  
from Fraser's neck for one second. _  
  
_*As if nothing in the world is more important to him now than I am.  
Nothing.*

The realization is so flattering, so erotic that it sends Fraser over  
the edge. Wipes away the last of his reservations, the last trace of  
his own self control.

He goes temporarily mad himself. Now that they're finally safe from  
prying eyes, and not in a moving vehicle, his long suppressed desires  
can finally be released. Fraser feels wild, almost feverish. "God,  
Ray," he whispers. "I need you!"

He starts pulling at Ray's clothes. Yanking hard. Pulling off Ray's  
coat, then grabbing his shirt. He feels Ray's hands on him too. Hears  
the loud, crackling sound of the velcro collar of his jacket being ripped  
open, and feels his jacket buttons rapidly being undone. But he's too  
busy pulling his partner's shirt up to pay much attention to Ray's flying  
fingers. Almost ruthless in his desire to remove the last barrier remaining  
between them, he tugs at Ray's shirt with both hands. In his haste to  
rid him of it, he almost strangles him pulling it off, but even Ray's  
muffled gasp of protest doesn't stop him. He needs to feel Ray's skin,  
feel his heart pounding against him�

"Yes!" Two identical sighs of happiness sound as Ray's shirt  
and Ben's jacket hit the floor within seconds of each other. Then Ray  
pulls Ben's suspenders down, and Ben strips off his own undershirt, and  
they're both naked to the waist.

They've separated a little temporarily, just enough to tug at each others'  
clothes, but it's too far for Fraser. Suddenly he pushes Ray back against  
the wall. Holds him there with both hands as he leans against him heavily,  
fusing their bodies together again. Keeping Ray right where he wants  
him.

*Ohhh, yesss�. This feels good _._ * Skin to skin, naked chest  
to naked chest. Ray's is as smooth and hairless as his, and it pleases  
Fraser. The sensation is exquisite. Ray's slim body feels hard, warm  
and sweaty in his arms, and Ben can feel his heart beating very fast.  
Pounding, actually, in a highly gratifying way.

He stares down into Ray's light blue eyes, wanting to possess him. To  
be possessed by him, in more ways than even the physical. In every way  
possible. "Call me Ben," he says hoarsely. "Say my name  
again�"

"Ben," Ray says with a suggestive smile, running his hands  
up Fraser's arms, stroking his biceps. "Ben, Ben, Benny,"  
he chants, his own voice husky with desire.

Fraser is rocked. He can't believe what hearing his name spoken like  
that does to him. Until that instant, he didn't even realize how much  
he'd wanted to. But hearing Ray whisper his nickname like that is so  
erotic, he wants to taste the sound on his lips.

Kowalski leans forward with a wicked smile until his mouth is hovering  
over the sensitized spot on his neck that he was kissing earlier. Then  
he breathes his name onto that heated patch of skin. "Ben �  
Ben � BEN."

Fraser's pulse leaps. He bends his head and takes Ray's mouth, his mouth  
that tastes like cinnamon and Ray's own special flavor, and drinks the  
sound of his own name from it for the first time. Holding his shoulders  
tightly so he can't get away, he drives his tongue deeply into that warm,  
delicious wetness, turning the whisper of his name into a moan.

He kisses Ray for a long time. Hard, stealing not just the sound of  
his name but Ray's very breath. When he finally tears his mouth away  
and kisses down his jaw line, down his neck, Ray manages a strangled  
moan. "Frayzh--!"

Fraser hears him, but assumes the sound was a gasp of pleasure. He doesn't  
see Ray's strained expression. His eyes are closed, and besides, he's  
too busy running his hands over the bared skin of Ray's chest as he sucks  
at his neck. He's so delighted at having been given the freedom of his  
partner's body at long last that he's like a kid running amuck in a candy  
store. He wants to touch everything, taste Ray everywhere. But as he  
kisses him, he unconsciously pins him even tighter to the wall with his  
hands, his hips.

Dimly, Fraser suddenly hears Ray gasp. "Fraser!"

***********************************************************************************

Ray can't breathe. In his excitement, Fraser's jammed him into the wall  
so hard, and is pressing against him so tightly while he devours his  
mouth, that he's cut off his air. When the Mountie finally tears his  
mouth away to kiss down his neck, he wheezes in protest. "Fraser!"

Ben's head comes up with a startled jerk. His eyes go wide as he realizes  
what he's done. "Oh dear. Ray, I'm so sorry!" he blurts,  
stepping back hastily.

His chest freed, Ray bends forward, gulping air gratefully.

"Are you all right?"

For a second, Ray is too busy taking deep breaths to answer. Fraser  
starts to turn away, like he's horrified at his loss of control, at the  
way he forgot his own strength. Like he's afraid Ray may be angry with  
him, that he's ruined things. But Ray won't let him go. He grabs his  
shoulder, pulls him back again. Leans over so their foreheads touch  
as he recovers. He doesn't want Fraser to freak out now, when they're  
just getting started. "Yeah," he pants. "I'm fine."

Ray grins, but Fraser just looks shocked. Frowns like he can't understand  
what Kowalski could possibly think is funny about this. "Are you  
sure, Ray?"

"Yeah. That�was amazing," Ray says.

"What are you talking about? I nearly crushed you! I'm so sorry--"

"I'm �not," Ray smiles. "Never saw you � lose  
control �before, Frayzh," he teases, getting his breath back  
now. "Kinda like it." He runs his hands over Fraser's biceps  
as he speaks, caressing him.

Fraser stares at him, incredulous. "You do?"

Ray nods, giving him a hot little grin. "Yeah. Turns me on, knowin'  
you want me that much."

"Oh." Fraser blinks as if he hadn't thought about it that  
way before, that his uncharacteristic loss of control could be considered  
a kind of compliment. Then he blushes. "Ohhhh�."

Ray shakes his head. *He's so unbelievable. Has no idea how sexy he  
is, how beautiful.* _  
_  
Fraser puts his arms around Ray again, careful to be gentle this time.  
"You're sure I didn't hurt you?"

"Nawww." Ray pulls Fraser close again, grinning, and kisses  
him deeply. And as he does, he takes his hand, pulls it down to his  
waist and presses it against the hardness straining against his zipper.  
"See?" he smiles, when they finally come up for air. "I'm  
just fine where it counts."

Fraser leans his forehead against Ray's, breathing hard, and moves his  
hand upward to cradle Ray's face. "You're fine everywhere, Ray,"  
he whispers tenderly. "I think � you're very handsome."

His voice is so shy, his words so heartfelt that Ray's breath catches  
in his throat. "Yeah?"

Fraser nods. "Very. I always have."

Ray swallows, deeply touched. Fraser is the only person he knows who  
would say something like that to him. This is why he could never settle  
for just a one night stand with him. This is what he wants, as much  
as his body: to have Ben's sweetness, to let it pour over his soul and  
take away his loneliness as nothing and no one else could. And to take  
away Ben's at the same time. To drive away some of the shadows Torrance  
and all those other jerks in his past put into his clear blue eyes, if  
he can. To be good to him, to fix all the damage those other people  
did to his innocent heart. To love him--because Ben's the beautiful  
one, not him.

But he can't put that into words. Doesn't know how. He's not good with  
words, that's the Mountie's department. He's going to have to show him,  
not tell him. So he takes Ben's hand in his instead, and pulls him forward.  
"Come on," he says simply. "I want you in my bed."

He's had sex there before, but he's never made love to anyone there.  
He wants Ben to be the first. Even though it's something he never imagined  
before yesterday, it feels right. Like it was meant to be.

Ben smiles and follows him. "Ray, there's a message on your answering  
machine," he murmurs as they head towards his bedroom.

Ray just smiles. He's noticed the little signal light winking on his  
answering machine too, but he wouldn't stop to pick up a message now  
if God was calling. Still, he can't resist teasing Fraser, because he  
knows he doesn't really want him to stop now either. "Think I oughtta  
get it?" he asks, pausing in the hall with the Mountie's hand in  
his, as if he's considering it.

Fraser smiles down into his eyes. "Later perhaps," he says.

Ray laughs, delighted at his friend's hunger for him. "Yeah. Much  
later!" And he pulls Fraser on down the hall.

***********************************************************************************

 

Ben is sitting on the edge of his bed, half naked, his hair a bit tousled,  
his face still flushed, his fingers poised on his zipper. What a picture!  
Fraser on his bed, getting ready to make love with him. Ray wishes he  
had a camera.

"Here," Ray hears himself say. "Lemme do it." Wanting  
to unwrap him like a Christmas present, he kneels in front of Ben.  
Leans up to kiss him and gently pushes his big hands away from his zipper.  
Fraser lets him, settling them on his shoulders instead as they kiss.

Ray begins to work his zipper down, concentrating on the kiss, on Ben's  
warm, soft lips and the hot wetness of his mouth. *God, I want him!  
I want him so bad�.*He realizes that some dark, hidden  
part of him has wanted this for a long time, to be this close to Fraser,  
to touch him like this, to call him Benny�and he never even knew  
it.

*No wonder I hated Torrance so much � I wanted him for myself.* _  
  
_He pulls the zipper down slowly, drawing out the moment. Fraser  
caresses him as they kiss, cups his face in his big warm hands, strokes  
his neck. When Ben's fly is undone, Ray reaches inside the opening and  
strokes his hips gently while he sucks at his tongue. Fraser moans softly  
into his mouth. Ray loves that sound, can't get enough of it. He stops  
kissing him just long enough to bend his head so he can pull off his  
boots. But they won't budge. "Shit!" he breathes in dismay  
after tugging hard with no result. He's forgotten that the damn things  
lace up so tightly they can't be taken off easily.

"Here," Fraser smiles. "Let me help."

Together, they make short work of the damn boots. Then Ray pulls Ben's  
pants and boxer shorts off too, and eases him back onto his bed. Down  
onto his pillows. Follows him down with a smile, kissing and sucking  
and licking him, unable to get enough of the beautiful Mountie. Can  
hardly believe he's got him naked in his bed. He hears himself saying  
things, muttering erotic words against his pale skin as he kisses him.  
"God, you're beautiful, Ben�. Yer gorgeous. Wanna eat you,  
ya know? Lick you all over."

"You do?"

"Oh yeah." He runs his tongue over the delicious hollow where  
Fraser's collar bone meets his shoulder muscle, to prove it. "Yeah.  
You taste good. So good�." He sucks at it. Bites him gently.

Fraser moans. Runs his hands through Ray's hair as he kisses him. His  
hands are shaking, and he's breathing heavily. He suddenly rolls Ray  
over onto his back and stares down at him, his eyes dark with desire.  
"Do you think so?" he asks.

Ray nods, grinning. "You *feel* good, too," he says, happy  
that his words seem to be turning Ben on. He loves holding him, loves  
Ben's solid, muscular body, the weight of him in his arms, on top of  
him. "Benny," he whispers, trying his most intimate nickname  
out again. Liking the sound of it. Liking that he's finally got the  
freedom to say it, that he's finally gotten this close to the Mountie.  
"Beautiful Benny�."

Fraser closes his eyes at the sound of it, and bends his dark head to  
Ray's chest. By the way he kisses Ray's already hardened nipples one  
by one, so tenderly, Ray knows he likes it when he calls him that. That  
maybe it even turns him on. He stores the information away for future  
reference, then all rational thought flies away as Ben starts to suck  
at his left nipple. Ray groans, his back arching up towards his caressing  
mouth. But Ben's weight keeps him anchored to the bed. Ray loves that,  
revels in the warmth and weight of his big body, how it covers his skinny  
body so thoroughly. It makes him feel safe. Warm. Like Ben's protecting  
him from the whole world. He tangles one hand in his dark hair and the  
other in the blankets, groaning softly with pleasure.

Then Fraser does something unexpected. He lifts his head, reaches out  
and takes Ray's hand in his. Brings it to his mouth and engulfs three  
of his fingers. Eyes closed, he sucks them gently. He looks rapt, as  
if nothing exists for him at that instant but the taste of Ray. The  
gesture has the feel of a private ritual, as if it has some meaning to  
the Mountie beyond the merely erotic. Ray doesn't understand it, but  
he wishes desperately that he did. Because Ben's face has softened with  
a look of melting tenderness that makes it one of the most romantic gestures  
Ray has ever seen.

The only person who ever looked at him like that, or wanted him even  
half that much, was Stella--and she's been gone for a long time now.  
All he's had since has been casual sex with women who were almost strangers.  
He's almost forgotten what it feels like to love�.

Until now.

"Benny�." For a moment, he pushes lust aside. Ignores  
the urgent demands of his body, the frantic throbbing of his cock and  
pulls Ben's head gently down to his again. He kisses him softly, over  
and over. Eyes closed, lips tender, trying to give instead of take.  
To tell Ben with his mouth, with his hands, all those words he doesn't  
know how to say. To tell him how much he means to him. It seems Fraser  
understands, because he kisses him back the same way. They embrace like  
that for a long time, just kissing sweetly. Their breathing quieted  
from its earlier ragged urgency, they moan softly, wordlessly into each  
other's mouths, each kiss a small act of love in itself.

Finally, Ben shivers a little in Ray's arms. Just a little, but it's  
enough to shift the mood from tenderness back to lust. Ray suddenly  
realizes that though Ben is naked, he himself is still wearing his jeans;  
and although Ben hasn't even touched his cock, it's already straining  
so hard against the denim that it hurts. Fraser's cock is hard too.  
It's swollen and dripping and pushing against Ray's thigh.

Ray doesn't want to make him wait any longer. He rolls Ben over again,  
gets on top of him. *Now,* he thinks. *I can't wait anymore either.*  
 _  
_He takes Ben's head in his hands and kisses him hard, driving his  
tongue deep into his mouth, as passionate as he was gentle a moment before.  
He feels Ben's heart leap, feels his hands dig into his back. Feels  
his desire flare again, urgent as his own. *Yeah, that's it�.*  
 _  
_Ray kisses down the muscular chest, takes Ben's cock in his hand  
as he lingers on his already hardened nipples again, licking and kissing.  
As Ray strokes him, Ben groans and shivers under him, moaning hoarsely.  
"Oh God, Ray--!" He bites his lip, as if trying to hold back  
his cries.

Ray won't let him. He wants Ben to feel free with him. He lifts his  
head. "Tell me, Frayzh," he pants, stroking him harder. "Tell  
me you like it." He wants to make Ben talk, wants to hear him say  
how much he wants him.

"Yes, Ray! Yes, I--ooohhhh, yesss!" Ben's words dissolve into  
a moan as Ray strokes the head of his cock. Ben is shaking now. His  
eyes close and his head goes back. His upper body arches up off the  
bed as Ray kisses down his flat stomach to his groin, and he's panting  
wordlessly. Ray smiles. He knows Fraser is about to explode. He's  
thrilled that he did that, that he finally took Fraser's rigid self control  
away and put hot pleasure in its place.

"You want more?" he whispers, propping himself up on his elbows  
between Ben's spread legs, hovering over his cock but not touching it.  
Teasing him.

A gasp, then, "Yes! Please, Ray! Please�Do it!"

Ray's grin widens. "Do what, Benny?"

For a minute, Fraser just shakes his head, his eyes shut tightly, his  
throat working. Then he groans, "Take it. Finish me! Please,  
please! Suck me, Ray!"

*Jesus _._ * That's so unexpected that Ray's eyes widen. He gets  
the sudden feeling that Fraser's done this before�and not with Victoria,  
either. He'd guessed that there might've been another guy in his past,  
maybe more than one, and all of a sudden, he's convinced of it. Ben  
just seems � so comfortable with him, with this whole thing. More  
at ease than if it were his first time with a man. But his hoarse cry  
is so erotic that Ray doesn't waste time wondering who Ben's other male  
lovers might've been. He can't wait any longer, either. He lowers his  
head and kisses his cock. Ben cries out. His hands tangle in Ray's  
hair, pulling at him. Not wanting to be distracted, or lose handfuls  
of his hair either, Ray pulls them away gently and pins them to the bed  
as he starts sucking in earnest.

"Ray�Ray!" Ben gasps, writhing under him. Ray sucks  
harder, taking more of him into his mouth, twining their fingers together  
as he drives him higher. He sucks and sucks, loving how Ben's cock is  
pulsing in his mouth, how it's flushing a gorgeous, angry pink under  
the tender assault of his lips, his tongue. Fraser's beyond words then,  
he's groaning deep in his throat, gasping for breath, his chest heaving.  
His cock is hot, hard and throbbing, and when Ray pulls upward towards  
the head, gently grazing the length of him with his teeth, then swirls  
his tongue over the head of it, Fraser explodes. Wordless, gasping,  
tears coming from the corners of his eyes, he comes into his mouth with  
a loud cry.

Ray watches him, loving the sight of Ben losing it while he takes him.  
Because of him. *Beautiful,* he thinks. *So beautiful _.�_ *  
He waits until the Mountie's convulsions have subsided, then  
crawls back up his body and kisses his flushed face. "You okay?"  
he asks.

Fraser puts his arms around him, pulls him close. "Ohhh�.  
Yes, Ray," he whispers. "I feel fine. Wonderful!"

Ray grins down at him. "Good. 'Cuz it's my turn now."

***********************************************************************************  
 _  
  
_Some time later, Ray wakes briefly. He feels cold, and reaches sleepily  
for Stella�

*No, not Stella,*he corrects himself as his outstretched hand  
touches firm, hard flesh. A big, muscular arm far too large to be Stella's.  
*It's Frayzh. Ben. Benny.* Stella's gone, and Ben is in bed with him  
now. The thought comes with a faint sense of shock as memories of their  
lovemaking flood his mind. He can hardly believe, even now, what Fraser  
just did to him. What he let him do in return.�

They'd made love four times. Four times in just a few hours�and  
he'd come hard every time. It was incredible. He hadn't been that aroused,  
that hungry for anyone in ages. It was so intense each time that his  
climaxes were mind-blowing. He smiled a little. Who the hell would've  
thought the gentle, polite Mountie could be so amazingly sensual? So  
insatiable?

But he was tender too, more tender than even Stella had ever been to  
him, and Ray had reveled in that as much as in his hunger. More than  
once, Ben had asked him to lie back, to lie still while he touched him,  
stroked him all over silently. And he'd done it, had even closed his  
eyes, wanting nothing more than the exquisite sensation of those large,  
incredibly gentle hands on his skin. Ben hadn't spoken, hadn't penetrated  
him or done anything overtly sexual at all--he'd just stroked him, caressed  
him, his fingers gliding quietly over every inch of his skin. When he  
was done with the front of him, he'd turned him over and explored his  
back and legs too, as if he thought every part of him was beautiful.  
And he'd done it all slowly, taking his time, with an absorption so complete  
it had amazed him.

No one had ever done that to him before�not even his own wife.  
He'd never even imagined it. It was luxurious beyond belief. Yet it  
was so simple, so natural, yet so profound, that he didn't know how he  
would live now if Fraser didn't do it to him again. *Being with him  
was like--* he struggles for the right words to describe what Ben did  
to him. *Like being with an angel, or being worshipped. Yeah. Like  
that.* Ben had bent all of his considerable powers of concentration  
on him, on pleasing him, on touching him. As if he were the whole of  
his world. It was beyond any experience of sex he'd ever had with anyone.

In fact, with anyone else, just experiencing pleasure more intense than  
sex itself, more like the mingling of souls, would've frightened him.  
Knowing that anyone else had such power over him, the ability to draw  
his soul right out of his body with their hands and caress it, would've  
petrified him. In his entire life, only Stella had ever been able to  
touch him on levels that deep. But he'd trusted Ben with his life for  
a long time. Trusting his soul to his gentle hands tonight had seemed  
natural. Inevitable. Perfectly right.  
 _  
_Ray turns over and watches Ben sleeping for a second. He's lying  
on his back, his right arm flung out towards him, his long lashes fanned  
out over his cheeks. And he's smiling. Smiling slightly in his sleep,  
as if he's dreaming happy dreams. Ray hopes they're about him. He reaches  
out and takes Fraser's hand in his, strokes his fingers gently, pleased  
by the small evidence of his lover's happiness, and amazed once again  
by the depth of his own feelings for him. *Ben,* he thinks, rolling  
the sound of his first name around in his head again. *Ben. Benny.  
Benton buddy. Benny Ben.* He smiles, doing variations on the theme.  
He wonders if Ben realizes what he did to him, how completely he captured  
his soul with his generous giving.

The sweetness of it lingers, like the ghost of Fraser's touch on his  
skin. Ray doesn't want to be apart from him, not even while Ben is asleep.  
He edges over quietly, gets next to him, then slips his arms around him,  
under the broad back and over his chest, and lays his head on his shoulder.  
*Sweet dreams, Benny Ben,* he whispers in his head, holding him tight.  
*Sweet dreams�.*  
 _  
_***********************************************************************************  
 _  
_Hours later, Fraser comes half awake. It's early, so early the dawn  
light is still weak. In his semi-conscious state, he gets confused.  
Something is wrong. He's in someone's arms, and not in his own bed.  
The smells aren't right�.

*Victoria!* he thinks, almost panicking. *But I thought she was gone.  
No, maybe that was just a dream. Dear God�*

Frightened, he opens his eyes and looks down at the warm body lying half  
on top of him�and sees Ray. It isn't Victoria in his arms after  
all, it's Ray Kowalski. Ray whose tousled blonde head is pillowed on  
his chest. Ray whose arm is draped across his waist. Ray whose scent  
is all over him�. He lets out a deep, shuddering sigh of relief  
and gratitude. Relaxes again as his momentary confusion vanishes, and  
memories of the last few days fill his mind.

*Ray made love to me.*

He can hardly believe it. Happiness rises in him. He feels bubble light,  
almost like he's floating. He strokes Ray's hair very gently, not wanting  
to wake him, just watching him while he sleeps. Ray is still completed  
naked other than the bracelet around his wrist, his hair is in disarray  
and sticking straight up in several places, and his lips are parted slightly;  
and Fraser thinks he has never, ever seen anyone so beautiful. Victoria  
was lovely too, but her beauty was dark, as dark as the deceitful soul  
that festered beneath her sultry exterior. Her beauty was, as they say,  
only skin deep. But Ray is honest and kind. He is blonde, delicate,  
golden, trustworthy�. Beautiful to the bone.

In Fraser's eyes, he shines.

He feels Ray's heart beating quietly against his chest, and it's the  
most amazing feeling: to be so close to him that he can feel the very  
pulse of his life. It's magical, miraculous, beyond words. He tightens  
his arms around him a little, savoring it. A wave of pure, primitive  
possessiveness sweeps over him. *My Ray,* he thinks. *Mine.*Wonderful,  
amazing Ray, who saw him cry and didn't laugh at him. Ray, who held  
him in his arms and comforted him instead. Ray, who made mad, passionate  
love to him�not once, not twice, but four times before they slept.

At least, Fraser tells himself it was love. It was certainly that for  
him: love, not just sex. Ray has been watching his back for nearly  
a year now, but last night he placed his heart into his keeping as well.  
He wonders if Ray knows that�and if he feels the same. And for  
the first time, a hint of shadow intrudes on his quiet joy. A dark little  
doubt. If Ray loves him, he never said so.� And not because he's  
a quiet lover, either. Far from it. He talked a lot while they were  
making love. He moaned erotic commands to him, whispered them in his  
ear, even shouted them--said things to Fraser, in fact, that no one has  
ever said before. Things that make him blush to remember them.

But never those three little words. *He never said he loves me.* _  
_  
Even while holding Ray's slender body in his arms, that realization pains  
Ben. He tells himself that it shouldn't, that he's had more of Ray than  
he ever thought he would, perhaps more than he had a right to expect.  
It would be foolish to let such romantic longings blight his present  
happiness. Even if all Ray wants from him is sex, he is such an unbelievable  
lover, why should that matter?

But it does.

Perhaps because Fraser has no memory of anyone ever saying those words  
to him: "Ben, I love you." Surely someone must have--he presumes  
his mother did--but she died when he was too young to remember hearing  
them. His father lived far longer, but was incapable of saying them;  
and Victoria never did either. He's since come to the conclusion that  
she probably never felt them. Ray Vecchio has, perhaps, come the closest  
to expressing that sentiment, that night in the car when he told him  
he would go to prison rather than accept a deal that would betray him:  
"Not in this lifetime, Benny _."_

 __The love behind those simple words had been deep and real, and Ben  
had appreciated the warmth in Ray's heart, had returned his loyalty.  
But though their feelings were mutual, they were not physical. Not romantic.  
Ray was his brother, not his lover. Fraser would like, just once, to  
hear those words from a lover. Lying there with his new Ray in his arms,  
Fraser wishes, with a hunger that surprises him, that Kowalski had said  
that to him last night. Even once. So that if he died today, he would  
still know that his time on Earth had not been wasted. He would still  
know that he'd grown into a person someone had found worthy of loving  
with not just their heart or their body, but their whole soul. Then,  
perhaps, he would really feel like the man he outwardly appears to be.  
Strong; whole; at peace.

But he doesn't want to hear those words from just anyone. He wants to  
hear them from Ray. _  
  
_*But then of course, that wouldn't be like him. Ray is a creature  
of instinct, of action, not of words.*

Still, surely his actions meant something�. Fraser remembers the  
way Ray pushed him against the wall as soon as they got inside his apartment,  
his urgent, almost frantic kisses and caresses. Remembers the moment  
later on when he paused in the midst of that frenzy, whispered his name  
and then just kissed him for a long time, kissed him so tenderly that  
it almost made him want to weep again. The way he gave himself with  
such sweet abandon, with such generosity, devoting himself to Fraser's  
pleasure and not trying to conceal his own. The moments when Ray lay  
still, merely because he'd asked him to, and allowed him to touch him  
all over, to explore his whole body with his hands, a wondrous terrain  
of warm muscle, sinew and bone that he'd mapped with joy, with awe.  
He remembers how Ray smiled while he did it, a smile so sweet and serene  
that it amazed him. And he wonders if that was all just lust _._

 __Or was it something more? Maybe Ray had conveyed some deeper meaning  
with his words after all. He remembers what Ray said to him in the car,  
when he was crying: "Tell me who hurt you, and I'll take them apart.  
Or else tell me what you need, and I'll get it for you! Even if it's  
illegal! Just tell me."

Ray spoke those words so fiercely, with such passion, that Fraser cannot  
doubt their truth. Ray meant them, and they seem to imply a devotion  
above and beyond even what a cop would feel for his partner. And tonight,  
for the first time, he'd called him Ben. Even Benny. And he'd done  
it with a warmth in his eyes that was unmistakable.

So perhaps Ray does, in fact, love him.

He'd felt he did when their bodies were entwined, and even more strongly  
in those quiet moments in between when Ray had allowed him total freedom  
with his body. Not in a sexual way, but just to touch him. To give,  
not to take. In those moments when his hands were all that connected  
them with a feather-light touch, he'd felt they were closer than they'd  
ever been. He'd loved Ray, loved him with all his heart. Still, he's  
not sure if that extraordinary feeling, that deep, powerful sense of  
communion, filled Ray's heart too, or if it was his alone. Having never  
really known love, having never even heard the words, how can he be certain  
he recognizes it in another? How can he be sure Ray felt it too? He  
once thought Victoria loved him, and found he was completely, tragically  
mistaken. It's possible that he could be just as mistaken about Ray  
Kowalski's feelings. He can't afford to presume they echo his just because  
he wants them to. He's been down that road before with Victoria, and  
it only led to disappointment, disillusionment and despair.

He sighs softly to himself. There is only one way he will ever know  
if Ray loves him; and that is if he says so. Because whatever else has  
happened between them, Ray has never lied to him. He is honest to the  
bone. So if he ever says he loves him, Fraser will know that it's true.

An impatient part of him whispers, *But what if he never does? Why not  
just ask him?*

But looking down at Ray's tousled blonde head, Fraser knows that he won't.  
Because what if Ray said no? What if those honest blue eyes looked deep  
into his and he said something like, "Jeez, Fraser, I thought you  
knew�. I'm still in love with Stella. I just wanna fuck you.  
That's all it is."

Fraser's not at all sure something inside him that's been stretched extremely  
thin already wouldn't shatter beyond repair if he heard those words.  
*Better not to ask,* he tells himself sadly. *Far better not to know�.*

But suddenly, he doesn't want to hold Ray anymore. He's almost afraid  
to. He wants to get up, to get away from him. Away from the sadness  
that has gripped him unexpectedly, in the wake of one of the most memorable  
nights of his life. He feels a sudden, inexplicable need to clothe himself  
before Ray wakes and touches him again. He slips out from underneath  
his lover slowly, cautiously, trying not to wake him as he lifts his  
clinging arm off of his waist, and lays his head gently back down on  
the pillow.

He almost makes it. He sits up at the edge of the bed and stretches  
his back a little, feeling delicious little aches in his thighs and other  
muscles, from their strenuous�what? For him it was lovemaking,  
but what would Ray call it? Fucking? _*_ A rose by any other name,*  
he thinks, wincing a little. He starts to get up, but a slender hand  
catches his from behind. Holds it fast.

"Where you �goin', Ben? It's not even � light yet�."

He smiles in spite of himself, at the unmistakable early morning hoarseness  
in Ray's voice. From its muffled sound, he knows without looking that  
his face is still pressed into the pillow where he laid it gently, and  
that his eyes are probably barely even open. Still, he called him Ben�.

Part of him is touched�but part of him is even more fearful at this  
new evidence of Ray's affection. He feels overwhelmed by the emotional  
intensity of their night together. He feels exposed, vulnerable, as  
if he would shatter with a touch. But he doesn't want Ray to see that  
for fear he'll take it personally. And he knows he can't explain to  
his practical friend his need for time and space to absorb the astounding  
things that went on in Ray's bed last night, on levels other than the  
merely physical. It is his nature, but there is still much of him that  
Ray doesn't understand. That he can't understand, because he hasn't  
told him.

Victoria heads that list, but Fraser shrinks from mentioning her name  
on this first morning of his new relationship, either. He's almost superstitiously  
afraid it would cast a pall over what the night before brought into being,  
so he stays silent.

It crosses his mind suddenly that he never went home last night to feed  
Diefenbaker, and he seizes on that fact with a queer sense of relief.  
That's a safe, mundane yet useful subject he can speak of. That he can  
use as an excuse for some private time in which to regroup. "I  
have to go home, Ray," he hears himself say.

"Whaa?"

Is there a trace of alarm in that voice, or is he just imagining it?  
"Just for a little while," he explains. "I have to feed  
Diefenbaker. Then I'll come back, and�."

He falters. *What should I say: "We can make love again"?  
Or will that sound too sentimental to Ray's more experienced, and perhaps  
less emotionally involved, ears? Well, there's always, "We can  
have sex again." No, too clinical. But "we can fuck again"  
is even worse.* Though more sex with Ray is what Fraser wants more than  
anything, he can't even think of what they just did together as fucking.  
He's always hated the sound of that word, never mind its crudity. It's  
hard, cold, cynical�suited perhaps to the emotionless collision  
of bodies, but worlds away from the love and tenderness he felt, and  
tried to express, when in Ray's arms. So, for lack of a proper word,  
he avoids mentioning sex at all. "We can go out and have breakfast,  
Ray," he temporizes, not daring to look at him as he reaches for  
his socks and boots with his free hand. "Is that all right?"

"Mmm�." Ray's only reply is a wordless moan he can't interpret.  
But Fraser suddenly feels his right hand, the one Ray has captured, pulled  
back behind him. Ray plants a kiss in the middle of it, and his mouth  
is deliciously warm. Feeling that little kiss through his whole body,  
Fraser turns in spite of himself. Finds Ray propped up on an elbow watching  
him with sleepy, heavy-lidded blue eyes.

Ray whispers, "What does this mean, huh, Ben?" Then, as Fraser  
watches, he sucks three of his fingers deep into his mouth and suckles  
them warmly, his blue eyes holding Ben's all the while.

*Oh my God.* Fraser shivers, his heart turning over. *How did he guess?  
How does he know?*  
 _  
_He did that to Ray because of Victoria, because of their time in  
the snow that touched his soul, that branded that gesture into his heart  
forever. It means romance to him, it means intense sexual attraction,  
a deep sense of protectiveness�it means love to him, it was his  
way of expressing his deepest emotions. But he's afraid to admit that.  
Doesn't even know how, out of the many ways he caressed Ray last night,  
Kowalski could possibly have guessed that particular gesture had special  
emotional significance to him.

Kowalski's ability to see so deeply into him frightens Fraser a little�especially  
since Ray may not really love him. He has learned, to his sorrow, that  
love is not a necessary ingredient for sex, or even for accurate insight  
into another's innermost feelings. Despite years of practice at concealing  
his behind a stoic facade, some people have been able to see inside him  
very well indeed.

*Victoria could always read me like a book, too. But she didn't love  
me, and she eventually used that knowledge to try to destroy me.*  
 _  
_He'd suffered untold agonies, both mental and physical, because of  
his failure to recognize her perceptiveness. He'd thought himself safe  
with her because he'd thought she loved him--but that wasn't true. Victoria  
had seen so deeply into him that she'd managed to manipulate and almost  
ruin him. But he'd come to believe that that had nothing to do with  
love, and more to do with the careful study of character in the pursuit  
of revenge.

It left him with a dread of intimacy, of being transparent to another.  
He tells himself that Ray would never do that, would never use what he  
knows about him to hurt him�. But he told himself that once regarding  
Victoria too, and learned just how wrong he could be.

So even as Ray's warm tongue sucks at his fingers, and his blue eyes  
smolder at him across his sex-rumpled sheets, Fraser can't quite bring  
himself to give his lover an honest answer to his question. To tell  
him how much he cares. To trust him completely, as his heart urges him  
to; as he once would have. Rationalizing his wariness, he tells himself  
that Ray's question might've just been a lucky guess, or perhaps an erotic  
invitation of some sort that he just misread--anything but the loving  
insight it seemed. He turns away, filled with a nameless pain he's felt  
ever since Victoria's betrayal. "It doesn't mean anything, Ray,"  
he says quietly. "I just thought you might like it."

***********************************************************************************

Ray stares at Ben in surprise. Feeling like the Mountie just punched  
him, he lets his fingers slip out of his mouth. Fraser takes his hand  
back without comment and turns away again. Ray flushes, feeling incredibly  
stupid. Feeling rejected by the Mountie's sudden coldness. He was trying  
to be romantic, trying to tell Fraser how much last night meant to him,  
but he didn't get it.

*Or maybe he didn't want to,* he thinks with a cold flicker of fear.  
*Maybe he doesn't feel the same way. Maybe all that kissing and moaning  
and fucking we just did was just that to him: just sex, nothing else.  
Maybe the way he touched me didn't mean what I thought it did, either.*  
After all, he just said that finger sucking thing didn't mean anything  
to him, though Ray could've sworn it did.

Not for the first time, he feels totally confused by the Mountie. Just  
when he'd thought they were finally really together, bonded in a way  
he'd never been with anyone, Ben was pushing him away. He wasn't Benny  
Ben now. He wasn't even Ben. He was Fraser again. Fraser, Ice Prince  
of the Yukon, beautiful, perfect but untouchable. Unreachable. And  
if he was that far wrong about him, if he'd completely misread that rapt  
look on Fraser's face last night when he'd sucked his fingers, then maybe  
he was wrong about other things too. Maybe he doesn't know him nearly  
as well as he thought he did.

So maybe there's more to Fraser's sudden desire to leave than the need  
to go home and take care of his wolf. Maybe Ben doesn't really love  
him.

That idea sends coldness rippling through his gut. He stares at Ben  
as if he can unravel the mystery of the Mountie by tracing the contours  
of his body. His eyes fall on the scar midway down his lover's spine,  
the old bullet wound that mars the smooth perfection of his back, and  
he grimaces. One more reminder that there's a part of Fraser, a big  
part, that he doesn't know much about: his past. The part of his life  
that included Victoria Metcalf and Ray Vecchio. Friends and lovers he  
never knew, has never even met. All those people whose ghosts were swimming  
around in his eyes the other night. He realizes that Fraser never did  
answer his question about who had hurt him, never told him who he'd been  
romantically involved with, other than Victoria Metcalf. *For all I  
know, he could have tons of ex lovers--guys and chicks both! How the  
hell would I know?*  
 _  
_Ray shivers. He's got a bad feeling all at once. A spooky little  
feeling that something bad's about to happen. He tries to shove it away.  
He's not a superstitious guy, doesn't believe in black cats or Friday  
the 13th being  
bad luck, or any of that stuff. But the hairs on his neck are lifting  
all the same, as he stares at that old bullet hole in Fraser's back�and  
he doesn't know why. _  
_  
So he does what he always does when something freaks him out. Turns  
his shivers into something he can understand: anger. Getting mad is  
safe. Familiar. Getting mad, he can deal with. Besides, he's got a  
reason: Fraser's acting weird. He wants him for his own, thought he  
loved him, and he wanted to be good to him. So he did his best to make  
love to him last night. Gave him his all, held nothing back, tried to  
make him happy. Stuck his skinny neck out, way out--further than he  
has in years, for anyone. Trusted him with his heart. Hell, with his  
soul. And now the big jerk wants to shut him out? All he can say is,  
"It didn't mean anything, Ray?"

He lifts his eyes from Fraser's scar, and scowls at the back of his dark,  
handsome head. "Well, wham, bam, thank you kindly, ma'am!"  
he mutters under his breath.

"What, Ray?"

"Nothin'," he says sullenly. He swallows hard, trying to control  
himself as he watches Fraser pull on his pants. Feels a twinge of lust  
at the sight of his long, strong legs, so much larger and more muscular  
than his own. *He's so fuckin' beautiful, it almost hurts to look at  
him. Hell, last night, he made me feel beautiful too. Me, Stanley Ray  
Kowalski. Rebel hair, stupid tattoo, skinny ass and all. Thought he  
said I was handsome. But I must've been dreamin', 'cuz now he's in a  
hurry to get away from me! Shit, our first night together and he's tryin'  
to run out before I even wake up. Goddamn him! He hasn't even been  
here long enough to start hating me yet!*  
 _  
_"Fraser, do NOT do that."

"What, Ray?"

"Don't turn yer back on me like that!" he grates, his anger  
growing as the Mountie pulls on his boots. He wants Fraser next to him.  
Wants Benny, naked in bed with him. Loving him, not leaving him. That  
hurts. Reminds him too much of Stella.

Fraser shoots a quick glance at him over his shoulder. "I don't  
mean to be rude, Ray. I'm just trying to�"

"What did you mean by that, anyway?" _  
_  
His voice has become so harsh that Fraser finally turns his head and  
blinks at him. "Mean by what, Ray?"

Ray sits up, his anger growing. "Don't gimme that innocent look,  
you know what I mean!"

"I'm afraid I don't," the Mountie says, frowning as he reaches  
down to pick up his shirt. "I don't understand�"

"Well, I do! I understand what's goin' on here. You don't have  
to spell it out for me, Fraser. I get it! You wanna leave, GO AHEAD!"  
He breaks off suddenly, realizing that he's yelling.

Fraser stops dead, shirt in hand. He searches Ray's eyes, a sudden frown  
forming between his dark brows. "What are you so angry about, Ray?  
Have I done something�"

Ray gets to his feet, runs an angry, exasperated hand through his hair,  
making it even messier than it already is. "Oh, no." He shakes  
his head, so mad that he's beyond explaining himself. "You haven't  
done anything! Nothin' at all!" And that is, of course, partly  
why he's so mad. He was hoping Fraser would want to have sex with him  
again, now that he's awake. But obviously not. Ray's insecurity intensifies.  
*He'd rather go feed his damn wolf than make love with me. If that really  
is what he means to do. Maybe he's just runnin' away. Shit!*

"Ray�"

"This is great. This is perfect!" he growls. "You just  
run off and feed Dief, or whatever the hell it is you wanna do, and�"

Fraser cocks his head, his puzzled frown deepening.

That doesn't help matters. In fact, it makes Ray even madder. *He's  
starin' at me like I'm some weird kind o' slime he didn't expect to find  
on the bottom of his boots,* he thinks.

"That is exactly what I'm going to do, Ray," Fraser says, a  
bit defensive in the face of his glare. "Dief will be hungry, and�"

Eyeing the beautiful Mountie, Ray thinks, *Yeah, well, he's not the only  
one.* "Sure. Fine! Whatever! _"_ he snarls. "You  
just go on home then. I'm gonna go take a shower. Guess I'll see you  
when I see you." Doubting that it will be any time soon, he turns  
on his heel and heads for the can, fuming, almost unbearably disappointed.

But he only gets a few steps away before Fraser catches him. Turns him  
around, forces him to look up into his impossibly blue eyes. "Ray�.  
You didn't think I wanted to leave *you*, did you?" he asks softly,  
those eyes soft and warm.

Right then, Ray knows he didn't. That he had it all wrong, that last  
night did mean something to Fraser too. That look, and his tone of voice,  
takes the wind right out of Ray's angry sails. He feels an enormous  
sense of relief. Ben, his Benny, isn't really gone after all. He's  
still in there, in fact it's him who's looking out from the Ice Prince's  
eyes now. That melts him in a second, and he forgives him for wanting  
to leave. Realizes he overreacted, that he was being paranoid. But  
he can't admit it. That would be uncool. So he lies, still trying to  
sound angry. "'Course not! This is just how I am when ya wake  
me up too early. I'm always like this in the morning, before I get my  
coffee�"

"A spoonful of instant, six M & M's and hot water," Ben smiles.  
"I know. But that's not coffee, Ray, that's revolting."

Revolting or not, all Ray can think is how well Ben knows him. How his  
smile is so sweet, he could say almost anything and he'd let him get  
away with it�. So he doesn't try to pull away when Fraser comes  
even closer to him. "Oh, yeah, like you'd know anything about revolting,"  
he teases back, smiling a little in spite of himself. "Mr. 'I'll  
Lick Anything as Long As It's Disgusting.'"

Fraser's very close now, so close he can feel his breath on his cheek.  
"Oh, I don't know," he smiles. "I enjoyed licking you  
very much, and you're far from disgusting, Ray." And before Ray  
can even recover from the shock of hearing his innocent Mountie say something  
like that, that same Mountie has captured his mouth, and is kissing him  
with enthusiasm.

When they come up for air some time later, Ray is already hard again,  
and breathless. He leans his forehead against Ben's, rests his hands  
on his shoulders, stroking the muscles lightly, admiringly. "Yer  
sure ya � gotta go home, huh?"

Fraser smiles, and tilts his head to kiss his cheek. "I really  
should, Ray," he whispers, his lips ghosting gently along his skin.  
"Dief didn't get any dinner last night, or breakfast this morning  
either, and he'll need a walk too�"

Ray winces a little. In his greedy pleasure at having Ben all to himself,  
he'd forgotten that his partner had never gone home last night at all.  
So the wolf's actually missed two meals now. He's probably starving.  
"Yer right," he whispers, turning his head to return the kiss.  
"He's gonna be seriously pissed."

Their lips touch gently, and Ray takes advantage of their closeness to  
take Ben in his arms. But all too soon for his taste, Fraser pulls away  
a little. Nods regretfully. "Yes. He will. Not to mention hungry.  
I hope he's not too furious with me, though. The last time I did something  
like this, he ate my extra pair of boots. And he didn't forgive me for  
weeks. It was very upsetting."

Ray laughs. Fraser's the only guy he knows who would worry about hurting  
a wolf's feelings. But then, Dief's not just any canine, either. He's  
so smart it's spooky, almost like a guy in a fur coat. Then again, it's  
all part of the northern mystery that is Fraser. So he accepts it.  
"Yer nuts, ya know that?"

Fraser nods again. Smiles down at him indulgently. "Yes, Ray."

Ray tilts his head and kisses him again, hard and fast. "'Kay then.  
Go home. Feed the wolf. Then bring him back here, all right?"

Fraser's blue eyes get even warmer, as if this time, he understands Ray's  
unspoken message. That he wants to spend the whole weekend with him.  
Doesn't want to be separated from him for even as long as it takes Fraser  
to drive back and forth between their apartments to feed and walk his  
wolf. "Are you sure you won't mind, Ray? I mean, having wolf hair  
in your apartment?"

Ray shakes his head, kisses his wet mouth again. "Not if you come  
with it, Mountie man," he smiles. "Now get goin'!" Knowing  
Fraser's penchant for exercise, he adds, "Take the GTO, don't walk.  
Keys are in my jeans."

With a final, satisfied pat on Ben's butt, he heads for the shower, humming  
under his breath at the thought of what he's going to do to him when  
he gets back.

"Thanks, Ray!" Fraser calls after him. "I won't get  
a scratch on it, I promise! And I'll be back in about thirty minutes."

"Fine," he answers, going into the bathroom. *That oughtta  
be just enough time for me to shower, shave, and stay naked,* he grins  
to himself.

"Actually�. Depending, of course, on the traffic, the prevailing  
weather, and how deeply Diefenbaker chooses to humiliate me for forgetting  
him like this, I could possibly return in as few as maybe twenty,"  
Fraser says hopefully.

Ray shakes his head. "Just get goin', Frayzh!" he calls down  
the hall. "The sooner you're gone, the sooner you'll be back, right?  
And the sooner you get back, the sooner you can start lickin' things  
again, if you catch my drift."

"Right you are, Ray."

That does the trick, because though Fraser was shirtless when they kissed,  
he's got his uniform jacket on and is heading for the door in what seems  
like ten seconds flat after that. Ray grins to himself. *Nothin' like  
a little lust, to light a fire under a Mountie. No, not just *a* Mountie�*my*  
Mountie. My Mountie Man. My Benny Ben.* The thought gives him a little  
glow.

"Ray!" Fraser calls over his shoulder one last time, on his  
way out. "Remember, you have a message on your answering machine!"

But Ray's in the bathroom already, and doesn't hear him. He steps into  
the shower smiling. Turns the water on real hot, then lets it pour over  
him, imagining it's Ben's warm tongue.

*Ooohhh, that feels good�.*

***********************************************************************************

Ben reaches his apartment in record time. He's kept to the legal speed  
limit over every instant of the drive from Ray's place, but only with  
an effort. Somehow, as soon as he left Ray, his fears faded away. Perversely,  
instead of enjoying the moments alone that he'd felt he needed, instead  
of using them to put the night before into some kind of perspective,  
he's found himself using them to remember every detail of their lovemaking.  
He's imagined it in such greedy detail, in fact, that it aroused him,  
and it became rather difficult to concentrate on his driving. He'd thought  
he needed to be alone for a few moments to decide exactly what their  
lovemaking had meant to Ray, to assess the effect it will have on both  
their lives�and how it relates to his own past. But he can't decide  
on its meaning, because remembering it arouses such overwhelming hunger  
in him for more that it blots out his capacity to reason.

Now that he's left Ray, he wants nothing so much as to be back in his  
arms again.

He's been celibate for so long, he'd half forgotten how extraordinarily  
powerful sex could be. Can be, with the right person. And there's no  
question in his mind that Ray is the right person for him. The problem  
of whether he is the right person for Ray, the question of whether Ray  
is, in fact, even looking for a Mr. Right, or any kind of commitment,  
fades into the background when Ben thinks of him, so intense is his need  
for him. He feels almost as though he can will Ray to love him if he  
doesn't, because he needs his love so badly. The rational part of him  
knows that isn't so, it certainly didn't work with Victoria, but even  
so, as he drives towards his apartment, that part of him is repeatedly  
pushed aside, ignored by the larger part of him whose loneliness has  
finally been swept away by the touch of Ray's hands. That part of him  
has been so empty, so hungry, for so long, that once released, it is  
ravenous. Insatiable. Greedy for more.

In fact, in his haste to get back to his new lover, he finds himself  
repeatedly being tempted to exceed the legal speed limit. Only stern  
mental reprimands keep his foot from pressing the gas pedal to the floor  
when he remembers Ray's kisses, the touch of his long, slender, elegant  
hands�. Only memories of his slide into law-breaking with Victoria  
prevent him from taking what seems like a minor liberty, on this most  
amazing of mornings.

Fraser manages not to exceed the speed limit, but when he reaches his  
building, he parks the car swiftly and bounds inside. Spurred on both  
by a remarkable sense of well-being after Ray's lovemaking, and a deep  
desire to get back and experience more of it, he takes the stairs at  
an unaccustomed run, two or three at a time. He feels strong, energized,  
almost invulnerable. He decides, for once in his life, not to think  
the situation to death. Decides to table the question of whether or  
not Ray loves him for the moment, to give into his need for him and simply  
enjoy their time together without worrying about what Ray's deepest feelings  
may be. Even if Ray doesn't love him, he cares about him as a friend,  
and desires him so much that he was upset about him leaving, even for  
a short time. That makes Fraser happy. It would be nice to be loved,  
but being desired has its merits, too. And he's decided that is enough,  
for now. Kowalski's hot hands and hotter kisses are like manna from  
heaven to a man who has been untouched for far too long. Though he loves  
him, he will not ask for more, for that love to be returned, for fear  
of being disappointed.

He has had enough, and more than enough, disappointment in his life.  
Just this once, he will take the happiness that's been offered to him  
without questioning it. And perhaps that way, it won't be taken away.

As he reaches the top of the stairs, he frowns slightly, unconsciously,  
as he detects a trace of a scent that's both familiar and unusual. An  
expensive cologne of some kind�. But he's in too much of a hurry,  
his mind too full of thoughts of Ray, to waste time trying to identify  
it as he normally would. He pulls open the door of his apartment, expecting  
Dief to jump out at him as soon as it swings open, with huffy demands  
to know where he has been and when breakfast will be forthcoming.

But Dief doesn't.

He's lying on Ben's bed, snuggled contentedly up beside a long, slender  
figure that's also stretched out on his bed, wrapped in an expensive  
coat. Ben stops dead in his tracks with astonishment. And in that frozen  
instant, he notices several more strange things: a residue in Dief's  
bowl, the scent of that cologne he smelled out in the hallway. He makes  
rapid deductions from those small clues. The crumbs in Dief's bowl are  
fresh, which means it was filled after he left�so whoever this stranger  
is, Dief not only let him in, but allowed him to feed him too. And  
since the expensive cologne he scented earlier is even stronger in here,  
the man lying on his bed must be wearing it; so he has expensive tastes.  
But since Dief is blocking his view of everything but the stranger's  
legs and stylish black leather shoes, he can't answer the most important  
question of all: *Who the hell is he?*

"Well, I see things haven't changed much since I've been gone,"  
a familiar voice rings out, as the stranger's long legs stir. "You  
got a new place, but you're still not locking your door, huh, Benny?"

Fraser freezes, his head whirling. There's only one person on earth  
who calls him Benny with that precise intonation--and that's his voice.  
*But it can't be, that's impossible�.* His head whirls _. *_ He  
can't be here. This is a dream,* he thinks. He used to have a lot of  
dreams like this, when he first went away. Then as the stranger sits  
up, he remembers. *Oh dear God, that cologne�*

"But then, since Dief's still with ya, guess you don't really need  
to lock it, do ya?"

The stranger is sitting up now, and he can see his face. He's not a  
stranger at all. It's Ray Vecchio.

*How? How did you get here? How did you know my new address? What's  
happened? Are you all right?* Fraser sways on his feet, feeling like  
all the air has been sucked out of his lungs, a million questions rushing  
through his brain but completely unable to utter even one of them. Unable  
to do anything more than stare in astonishment at the tall, elegantly  
dressed, dark-haired Italian sitting beside his wolf. Ray Vecchio, in  
the flesh. On his bed, in his new apartment, back in his life as suddenly  
and unexpectedly as he left it, almost a year ago now. He couldn't have  
been more shocked if Ray had come back from the dead.

In a way, he has.

Fraser stares at him, his heart pounding. Ray is smiling slightly, but  
it's a strange sort of smile that doesn't really reach his eyes. It's  
not the warm, open smile he remembers. He notes other subtle changes  
in him too: a thin moustache, lines of utter weariness around his wide  
green eyes, a scar on his right cheek, a new tightness to the set of  
his mouth. All products of his months spent working undercover. In  
a split-second, Fraser knows, before another word is spoken, that Ray  
is not the same man he once knew; and yet he is.

Feelings roar through Fraser with frightening rapidity and force: hope,  
excitement, love�guilt, anguish, fear. Caught in the torrent, for  
once in his life, he's struck dumb. His mouth is open, but he's just  
sucking air, he can't say anything.

As the silence stretches out uncomfortably, Ray's flicker of a smile  
fades away. He gets up off his bed and walks slowly towards him. "Whatsa'  
matter, Fraser?" he asks softly. "I been gone so long ya forgot  
my name or somethin'?" And there's a flash of something deep in  
his eyes that looks like pain.

That flash somehow unlocks Ben's tongue, releases him from his paralysis�even  
as his question intensifies his guilt. How could he forget that name,  
when he's been calling his replacement by it for the past year? His  
replacement, who's just become his lover. *A Ray by any other name�.*

"Ray!" he breathes. He moves forward in a sudden rush and  
takes the Italian in his arms. Pulls him close and holds him, with a  
sigh that is part immense relief and part anguish. Ben holds him before  
he can sense his feeling of dread. But it turns his mouth dry, because  
Ray Kowalski is so important to him now, and he knows�he knows in  
his bones�that Ray Vecchio will never accept that, will never understand.  
He's seized with an almost superstitious fear that Ray's return, at this  
untimely moment, means that he will be forced to make a choice between  
the two men; a choice that will tear him apart. He hugs Ray Vecchio  
before Ray can see the tears that have filled his eyes--before he can  
guess that they're not entirely tears of joy.

Ray's arms go around him slowly, as if it's been so long since he's held  
anyone, he's almost forgotten how. But after a moment, they grip him  
just as tightly. "Benny," he says quietly, letting out a sigh  
so deep it sounds like he's been holding his breath for the last year.  
"God, it's good to be home."

Ben closes his eyes in joy, in anguish. *Oh, Ray!*  
 _  
  
_The End

(If you want to learn what happens next, please read the next story in  
this series, "Signs, Symbols and Dreams".)  



End file.
